


Alone Together

by TheDoctorsConstantCompanion



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-31
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-01-27 18:27:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 38,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1719083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDoctorsConstantCompanion/pseuds/TheDoctorsConstantCompanion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finding out that there's someone out there who feels the same way you do can revolutionize entire worlds, magical or not. When two people fall in love there's no going back. Beginning in their sixth year, Hermione is forced to decide where her loyalties lie when she discovers Draco's secret.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

There was only one way that could describe the way she felt right now, at this moment.

Alone.

Under normal circumstances, the library was her safe haven. The quiet sounds of quills scratching parchment, of pages being flipped, of robes being rustled, had been the perfect combination of noises that created what sounded like a symphony to her ears. Now, with each stroke of ink and tired sigh, her headache grew along with the pit in her stomach. 

She bent her head down to rest her forehead on the cool, varnished wood of the cubicle. The papers she had been pouring over fell onto the ground but she made no move to retrieve them. Instead, a shaky breath escaped her lips as her hair fell in messy curls beside her cheeks, blocking her view of the rest of the library. 

Hermione was tired. And angry. And most of all, she was lonely.

Lavender and Ron. Ron and Lavender. Everywhere she looked, she was reminded. And when she closed her eyes, as she did now, all she could see was their lips touching, his hands in the blonde girl’s hair. With each second that her imagination ran wild, the more she felt out of control of her own feelings. And that was what she hated most. 

It was illogical, her jealousy. If she had liked him so much to begin with, she could have gotten to him first. But they’d been friends for so long, she wasn’t sure if she actually did want to, you know, be with him. Maybe it was just the attention she missed. Maybe she just assumed he’d always be there for her. Either way, all this confusion, all these messy feelings, were the most infuriating circumstances she believed she’d ever been in and would ever have the misfortune to be in.

Harry wasn’t helping either. She knew that no matter what she said about that textbook, he wouldn’t listen to her. And she knew that one day it was going to come back and bite him right where the sun don’t shine. Then he’d come crawling back. Because she was right about this so-called ‘Prince’. The way he (or she) wrote made her skin crawl. That’s what these papers were for, trying to see if she could make a connection with any past students and this potions mastermind. But so far, her instincts were blind and she’d found nothing.

And then there was Malfoy. Oh, Harry would just not stop talking about him. “Malfoy’s a Deatheater, I’m telling you!” or “If I could just see up that sleeve one time.” or “It’s in his eyes, he’s pure evil, there’s no doubt about it!” It was starting to sound like he was questioning his sexuality. For Malfoy, of all people. She knew that he was a prick, but she also knew dictators and tyrants. Muggle history told a lot about those who use power to fulfill their prejudiced actions, and those leaders never trusted the newbies with personal missions. It would be idiotic. And Malfoy wasn’t exactly star of his class. No, he was a bad person, but not who Harry thinks he is.

With that, her two closest friends were preoccupied. Obsessing over girls and boys. Leaving her behind in the dust. Hermione was strong, but she was still a teenage girl. What she wouldn’t give to have one conversation with either of them with their undivided attention. To feel like she mattered. Or that she wasn’t going to crazy under all this stress. She tried talking with Ginny, but with her slim, athletic build and long, flaming hair, just by looking at the two of them she knew that in the end they had little in common besides the boys. 

She hadn’t felt this awkward since she’d been ten years old. 

Back before she knew all this, before she knew why things would randomly explode if she lost her temper, or why if she concentrated really hard, she could make her books come to her instead of the other way around. It was a brilliant, confusing feeling. But she couldn’t share it with anyone. The Grangers weren’t a particularly religious family, their tendency towards logical thinking didn’t lend itself towards that lifestyle, but she knew that anyone else who knew what she could do might think she was possessed or cursed or something. Because even though she was gifted with something so simply magical, she was still different. Before her magic revealed itself she was the overeager bookworm. Then she was the overeager bookworm with a secret she couldn’t share. 

And then she’d found her place. Here. At Hogwarts. 

Turning her head on the desk, she blew the hair away from her face as much as she could. Unencumbered, she could breathe in the scents of the library. The old book smell, the lanterns starting to burn as the sun was setting. This was supposed to be where she felt at home, and now it was all slipping away.

She opened her eyes a sliver to look out on her surroundings. Dust was floating the orange sunbeams that turned the room a darkening golden colour. There were a group of Ravenclaws and Gryffindors at a table across from her, trying to figure out their Transfiguration assignment. Working together to figure out what they were doing wrong when they tried the spell. It was a pleasant sight. Until one boy accidentally turned the blanket they were supposed to be making into clock into a giant palm tree instead. The girl next to him burst into laughter and his cheek blushed. Seeing this, the girl stuck out her tongue and then leaned forward towards him, pressing her mouth against his, her scarlet tie swinging as she grabbed onto his blue one. His lips curled into a smile against hers and the rest of the group cat called at them, disregarding the accidental vegetation they’d added to the library decor.

Hermione turned away quickly, trying to beat her imagination from morphing the boy’s light hair into a mop of ginger. She lifted her head from the desk, shaking it a little despite the ache that seemed to rest in her temples. She had to get out of there. The air was stuffy and the sun was warm, and that wasn’t what she needed right now. She needed fresh air, maybe an aspirin, and some sleep. 

Bending down, she grabbed her bag and picked up the fallen parchment. As she left, she dropped the papers off on a trolley for Madam Pince to take care of later. Usually, Hermione would re-shelve her things herself just to extend her stay a little longer, but this was not that kind of day. Instead, she walked straight out the door into the corridor. 

Walking through the halls, she already felt a little better. It was easy to get away from things she didn’t want to see (like certain paintings who didn’t know how to keep their mouths shut about gossip) and just getting the blood pumping through her legs was a relief. So much so, that she decided to drop off her things in the Tower before going outside. She wouldn’t be able to sleep for another few hours and she didn’t really feel like keeping all these books on her person as she wandered the grounds, so she began to bound up the stairs before they could move on her.

The farther up she got, the less people she saw. At this time of the evening, everyone was either already in their common rooms or still lazing around the Great Hall, picking apart their desserts. In fact, between the fourth and eight floor, the only person she saw was Malfoy, who didn’t even seem to notice her as he rushed down the left corridor on the seventh floor. The absence of people in such a large open space felt freeing and the loneliness was less crushing.

All she knew now was that she couldn’t wait to get outside.

~~~~~~~

There was only one word that could describe how he was feeling right now. One word in his entirely vocabulary that he never dared to admit to himself.

Scared.

As he hurried across the stone floor towards his destination, his head was clouded with thoughts that were all drenched in nervousness and desperation. But he wasn’t desperate yet, no, but he was getting there. He had to do this. He had no choice. But he didn’t know how.

He was already a couple months into his mission and he was nowhere near success. Crabbe and Goyle, who had given up on standing guard for him, were already starting to whisper behind his back about it. They didn’t think he knew that they were, but he did. God, they could be such idiots sometimes. All the time. Whatever. It was just idle chatter, but he hoped it wouldn’t spread to Zabini or Pansy. Or someone who’s opinion actually mattered.

His robes were swirling angrily around his legs as he picked up his pace. There, opposite the tapestry, was it. Was his ticket to win back his family’s pride. His ticket to survival. His only way to make it out of this mess alive. The Room of Hidden Things.

Draco reached forward and opened the door that hadn’t been there only seconds before. He’d been here so much, the room was accustomed to his usual thoughts of “I need to get in”. Laying in front of him as the door swung back was the most astonishing and random array of objects he’d ever seen, but the sight was familiar to him now. Everything about this mysterious Room was familiar. Sure, he’d always be finding something new inside it, and sometimes the layout would rearrange itself on him, but the smell and feel was always the same. It collected so much dust it was hard for anyone to breathe. But he always could, because he needed to. The Room vibrated with the secrets it held. It was tangible, the way the air was always full of a dry static that made his hairs stand on end. That was the one part of the place that he couldn’t get used to as he walked through its aisles. 

It took mere moments to find what he was looking for in the mess of a place. The Vanishing Cabinet, by the weird bust with a wig and crown and towering piles of books. But even as he approached it, he knew nothing had changed since the last time he’d come. He could tell. Every part of this damned thing was etched in his brain. When he opened the door, he saw he was right. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Just like every other time he’d been in here. Fucking. Nothing.

Draco longed to just hit it. To smash the fucking thing to bits. Splinters could line his hands and arms and he wouldn’t care because it would all be over. But he couldn’t. He didn’t know what was going in his home at this moment. If his parents were even alive. Maybe they’d done something else wrong to screw everything up for them, and he was just left here, alone. His friends had already given up on him, he wouldn’t be surprised if his family had as well. Well, his father probably already had. He’d given up on him the day he was born. His mother might be the only person left in the world who could care for him.

So he just sat on the floor in front of it, staring up at it. It’s black wood was rough and there were splinters littering the floor underneath it as if it had been tearing itself apart. His hands found their way up to his hair as his knees slid up under his chin. His pale hair was bunched between his fingers as he started to pull, tucking his head between his legs. It took everything he had not to scream.

That’s one thing he wasn’t sure of. Whether or not this place was soundproof or not. It’s not like it came with a manual, or something simple like that. He had to play it safe. He had to make sure no one found him in here. Found the cabinet. It was easier when he had Crabbe and Goyle to stand guard but now that they seemed to have some semblance of independent thinking he would just have to be careful. Which wasn’t too hard, since no one ever came up this way. The only person he’d passed today was that Mudblood, Granger, and she had seemed too preoccupied in her own thoughts to give him any attention. Not that he cared, it was all for the better that she didn’t notice him. And he wasn’t surprised either. She always acted like such a know-it-all, but what did she really know? She had her silly little issues with Weasley and new little bitch-girlfriend as they pranced through the halls together, the anger was written all over her face. But she had no idea what was really happening in the walls of the castle. 

Potter was the one he had to worry about. It was like he had been stalking him since the beginning of the year. He’d hoped that breaking the bastard’s nose would’ve sent him a clear enough message to “Stay the fuck away!” but apparently that kid was a masochist, or something. Draco knew that he didn’t actually know what he was up to, but he was still someone he had to watch out for. 

Always looking over his shoulder. Always being aware of who was around him at any given moment. Where Dumbledore was or where Potter was. Whether or not his apples would ever get back to him through the cabinet. He was tired of it.

Just tired.


	2. Mistake

Winter had finally descended upon Hogwarts as December decided to show up. The atmosphere of the Great Hall was giddy as bright white snowflakes descended lazily from the enchanted ceiling to evaporate a few feet above the heads of students that were chattering on about their Christmas plans, counting down the days until their break. It seemed as if no one had a care in the world. Of course, the opposite was true for the trio of Gryffindors that were seated, pushing their lunch around their plates.

“Have you still not invited anyone to... you know?” Hermione asked as quietly as she could, not daring to glance over to the ginger who hadn’t said a word since they’d sat down. 

“Nope,” responded Harry as he stabbed his slice of pork with his fork. He’d been rather aggressive with his food lately, she’d noticed. At first she thought it was because his captaining of the Quidditch team hadn’t been going well, but whenever she tried to ask about it he’d shrug his shoulders and change the subject. It wasn’t like him to keep something that was so obviously agitating him a secret from her and Ron. 

“Are you even planning to? I mean, I told you about what other girls are willing to do to try and-”

“Yeah, I know.” He cut her off, looking at her over the top of his glasses which had started to slide down his nose as he bent over his food. “I know that it’s tonight and I’m running out of time, I’ve got it. I just... I want to bring someone I like. Someone cool.”

Hermione regarded him carefully as he directed his gaze back at his plate, continuously wondering what must be eating away at him. 

“Just trying to look out for you, is all.” She raised her own fork and chewed slowly on the meat at the end of it, knowing that the conversation was over. 

“Won-Won!” A piercing shrill erupted from the aisle. Lavender appeared out of nowhere behind them, bending over Ron where he was sitting and hugged him around the neck. She planted a kiss on his cheek then pulled away with an obnoxiously wide grin on her face as she moved to sit down beside him. Ron awkwardly wiggled on the bench to give her more room, closing the space between him and Hermione. “What would you think about going for a walk tonight?”

“Tonight?” Ron shifted in his seat so he could face his girlfriend more directly, or not have to feel the other girl’s judging stare, Hermione couldn’t tell which. “Err... yeah, yeah, I can do that.”

“Great!” Lavender grabbed his hand in both of hers and squeezed tightly. “There should be a full moon tonight and the lake will be looking lovely what with the snow and ice and all...” She droned on about how much fun they would be having as Harry and Hermione shared an exasperated look. 

“Well, I should be heading off to get ready for class.” Hermione rose from the table, carefully avoiding contact with the occupied boy whose cheeks were getting redder and redder the more his girlfriend talked. “Would you care to join me?”

Harry, grateful for the opportunity to leave, nodded his head enthusiastically as he too rose. With a small wave towards Ron and Lavender, the two headed out on opposite sides of the table before meeting up at the doors of the Great Hall.

“Oh, thank the Lord,” Harry breathed out as they headed out towards Gryffindor Tower to get their things. “If I had to listen to her talk about the grounds for one more minute I’d have cursed her.”

“Oh really?” Hermione shot him a look. “Now that I’d like to see. Nothing too violent of course, but anything to see that smug smile gone.”

To that Harry turned to her and smiled himself. They both were so confused by this pairing, but at least it gave them something to talk about. If the subject of his textbook or Malfoy came up, they’d be left screaming at each other, unable to agree. With Ron and Lavender, they had an endless supply of annoyances to laugh about. At least, enough to last them until they reached the Common Room and the stairs to the dormitories. 

“I’ll grab my things and be right down, walk you to class?” Harry asked as he turned to head up the boys’ stairs. 

“I’m alright, thanks.” Hermione smiled weakly as she started towards her own dormitories. “We’re on opposite sides of the castle, I’m sure I can survive the halls on my own.”

“Okay,” He nodded back. “I’ll meet you at Slughorn’s then, yeah?”

“Sure, I’ll see you there.” And with that, she started up the stairs, taking it two steps at a time. She didn’t even bother to look back. She had to prepare.

………………………………………………………

 

A dress, a few strokes of makeup, a ton of hair mousse, and one skipped class later, she was ready. 

She was set to meet her date in the main hallway that led off to Slughorn’s office, but he seemed to be running late. So there she stood, only slightly struggling for balance on her heels, and still unsure that this date had been the right choice. She knew that she’d just chosen him to make Ron angry, but she didn’t know if she’d be able to last the evening with him. Just as she was about to give up on him and head to the party alone, no matter how embarrassing that would be, Cormac rounded the corner, dressed to the nines. His dress robes were of a classic style, and his smile was bright as he offered out his elbow to her. She wrapped her own arm in it and tried to return a smile as confident as his.

“M’lady,” He murmured down to her, leaning his head down as if to kiss her on the cheek. Fuck.

Hermione leaned her head away but kept her arm in his, letting out a nervous laugh as she did so. Trying to recover, she looked back up at him and tried another grin. “Let’s get to it then, shall we?”

Unperturbed, Cormac led the way to the party. Opening the door with one hand, keeping her hand wrapped tightly around the other, the sounds of loud music and talking seem to erupt as the crack widened. Letting themselves in, they joined into the crowd of people.

“Would you like some punch?” Cormac put his mouth beside her ear, only for convenience this time. She pulled away and nodded back to him. “Be right back.” He mouthed at her as he turned to snake through the sea of people towards the food area.

Being alone gave her time to look around and see the party Professor Slughorn had managed to scramble together. He’d managed to make the ceiling here fake snow like in the Great Hall, as well as put up different Christmas decorations from different religions along the walls. Scanning the faces of the crowd, she saw a number of people she didn’t recognize, and something told her not all of these were the faces of simply witches and wizards. A tall man with a sallow face who was accompanied by a shorter man showed unmistakeable signs of vampirism, while an even shorter man was hopping around and speaking in an incredibly loud Irish lilt. There were other professors here as well, none of which she really had any inclination of starting a conversation with right now. She was just about finished taking in her surroundings and about to look out the door to see if Harry was coming when a glass full of a pink liquid was shoved in front of her face.

“Here ya go!” Cormac forced the cup into her hand and then downed his own glass in a single swig.

“Thanks,” she muttered as she sniffed the drink. It seemed safe enough, so she took her own small sips as she looked back at her date. 

“So, I suppose you would like to hear more about me, right?” The curly-haired blonde kept stepping closer to her, and she had no choice but to stand her ground lest she start running other people over. 

“Oh, err, sure,” Hermione tried to put a hand out to stop him from coming any closer, but instead he grabbed her hand in his and started to hold it, rubbing his thumb along the side of her index finger.

“I’ve got no idea how I didn’t make the Quidditch team this year, but I’m telling you this one time I was playing Keeper and I was the only one left on the field for my team, everyone else had been hit out by the Bludgers or called of the field, and so it was like seven to one and I managed to win-” Cormac leapt into his story excitedly, barely stopping to breathe between his anecdotes. He had this feverish look in his eye, and whenever he got to a particularly ‘fascinating’ save, he gripped her hand with wince-inducing strength and took another step towards her. 

Hermione couldn’t focus, between the party and the stories and the feeling of his breath on her neck, and it was a feeling she couldn’t stand. Finally, having enough of it, she took a small step back and tripped on her own ankle, spilling her drink across his dress robes. At last he pulled away, assessing the damage, swearing indignantly at her.

“I’m so sorry!” She feigned her apology, gasping. “I’ll go grab some napkins!”

Pulling up the front of her dress to avoid getting actually tripped, she rushed through the crowd, weaving to try and lose him amongst the people. She was almost already on the other side of the room when she heard her name being called by a not-Cormac voice.

“Harry! There you are, thank goodness! Hi, Luna!” She saw that his date was none other than the Looney Luna Lovegood. Well, he could have done worse.

“What’s happened to you?” He asked, assessing her disheveled state. 

“Cormac.” The one word was enough to stop his questioning. He gave her an ‘I-told-you-so’ look before she twisted her body to see if she could see McLaggen’s head above the crowd headed toward them. “I think I see him, I’ll meet up with you later!”

With that, she rushed off in another direction, careful not to tread on anyone’s toes or call any attention towards herself. Making it to another wall, she hid herself behind a Christmas tree that was set up there, peeking through the branches to keep an eye out for the boy. 

What she saw instead was Filch, dragging a different blonde boy by the ear towards where Professor Slughorn, Snape, and Harry were standing. The crowd in the area started to go quiet the closer they got. 

The caretaker wheezed something to the group as the apprehended boy stopped struggling. As he stilled, she realized that it was Malfoy. His pale face was coated in a sheen of sweat, whether from nervousness or embarrassment she couldn’t tell. After a few words were tossed around, Snape stepped forward and took the student be the elbow, forcing him into the hallway.

“There you are!” That dreaded voice blurted out beside her. Hermione cringed and turns towards Cormac as he started down at her in her hiding place. “And what would you be doing behind a tree, exactly?”

“I, er,” She couldn’t meet his eyes so she scanned the crowd, looking for some excuse that could maybe be plausible. Instead, she saw Harry whispering something to his date and then heading out the door of the party, reaching under his cloak for something on his way out. She turned back to her own date, determined to leave no matter what it took. “I’m having really bad cramps and headaches.”

“What? Why-” The realization of what that insinuated hit him like a brick as his mouth turned down at the sides, disgusted. He obviously wasn’t getting any tonight. “Oh. Did you need, uhm, anything?”

Hermione started to edge her way around him so she was closer to the crowd than the tree. “I think I’m just gonna head out for the night. You know, otherwise this might turn into a migraine and who knows what would happen then.”

Cormac nodded in understanding, now he was the one unable to meet the eyes of the other. He stepped aside, letting her pass by, and so she headed out. Boys. Shaking her head, she darted her way back through the crowd and to the exit. Once in the corridor, she caught a glimpse of Harry’s sneakers disappearing under his Invisibility Cloak by the door of an empty classroom. Thankfully, the loud music and general roar from the party masked the sound of her heels on the stone so she was able to sneak up on her friend from behind without him noticing. 

She was about to reach out and tap his shoulder when she heard the name “Bell” mentioned from inside the room. Like, Katie Bell. She pressed up her ear to the cold stone wall. Finding that she could barely hear anything, she reached for her wand which was tucking into the side of her bra strap. Tapping the wall twice and pressing her ear up to it again, she found that she could hear almost everything in the room now, including the scuffing of Malfoy’s feet and Snape’s low drone as he spoke.

“Listen to me. I am trying to help you. I swore to your mother I would protect you. I made the Unbreakable Vow, Draco-”

Hermione pulled away, stifling a gasp. So, Harry was right. Snape was trying to help Malfoy, but with what? She pressed her ear against the wall again, having missed a few lines of the conversation.

“I’ve got all the assistance I need, thanks, I’m not alone!”

“You were certainly alone tonight, which was foolish in the extreme, wandering the corridors without lookouts or back up. Elementary mistakes.”

Wandering alone, like she’d seen him a couple days before. Alone. Rushing through the halls, like he was on a mission. No, Harry couldn’t be right about this. Malfoy couldn’t be what he thinks he is.

“You want to steal my glory!”

She’d heard quite enough. Malfoy sounded like he was ramping up, arguing with Snape, and she knew the Professor wouldn’t stand for it. Quickly, she hurried to the next classroom over and snuck through the door. As she was closing it behind her, she heard the other one burst open. She hoped that Harry had moved in time. Pressing up against the wood she could tell that Draco had stormed off, and no one was making a fuss about any eavesdroppers, so Harry must be fine. After waiting a solid five minutes, trying to process what she’d just heard, she tentatively opened the door again and stepped out. The corridor seemed empty.

“Harry?” She called out, hoping that he was still kneeling somewhere, invisible. No such luck. Maybe being to talk through it with him, they’d be able to reach a logical conclusion. If he weren’t so dead set on the Slytherin being evil. 

Hermione didn’t waste anytime getting back to the Gryffindor Common Room, hoping to catch him waiting around there for her. Again, nada. Tomorrow, he and Ron would be heading back to the Burrow on the train, so there wouldn’t be any time for her to discuss this all until classes resumed. She was staying here for the Christmas break. Her parents were spending the holiday in Spain this year, and though they’d invited her she knew that she needed to the time to herself. Assignments had only gotten harder this year, and she still had to figure out what she wanted to do when she was done at Hogwarts, and what grades she’d need in what classes, etc. etc. 

Resigned, she pulled off her heels and, holding them in one hand, dragged herself up the stairs towards her dormitory. Collapsing on the bed, she gave way to sleep; dreaming of good and evil, of blonde and black hair, and of right and wrong.


	3. Logic

Hogwarts was a literal ghost town. Most days it seemed like the only other people wandering the halls besides Hermione were translucent. It was only when she went down to the Great Hall for dinner that she saw another living, breathing person. Several of the teachers, not including Dumbledore, were seated at the head table, quietly discussing matters amongst themselves. At the house tables, there were only a handful of students present to eat the feast before them. It seemed that since the confirmed return of Voldemort last year, parents were taking no chances and keeping their kids as near to them as they could. 

Hermione sat alone, picking apart a salad as she poured over some news clippings she’d taken from the library. Since none of her friends had stayed, and she had no inclination of making friends with the students who had, she spent most of her time either studying and working on assignments, or trying to solve the mystery of the Half-Blood Prince. Now, she’d taken to trying to garner some information from old Hogwarts newsletters, taking the names of students mentioned and trying to compare them to other records she could find in the library. The results had been fruitless, but she still strived on, knowing that something would have to show up sometime. A person so ‘smart’, she hated to admit the word to herself, couldn’t have gone through education at Hogwarts without leaving some evidence behind.

Frustrated with yet another pile of useless papers, she dropped her fork onto her plate and shoved it forward, standing up in one fluid movement. No one bothered to glance her way as she gathered the parchment and walked out of the Great Hall. Half-way out of the room she realized that she really had no reason to hurry, and slowed her pace. Nodding towards a ghost who was gliding past her back into the Hall, she started to ascend the stairs to her own usual haunt. Between the Great Hall, the library, and the Common Room, her days were full of silence as she worked by herself. As she put her foot on the next step, almost at the top of this set, a deep rumbling erupted from the base of the stairs.

“Oh, not again,” Hermione gripped the railing beside her for support, her side bag swinging as the stairs rotated with her still on them. She closed her eyes and drew in a breath, creating an alternate route to the Common Room in her mind’s eye. She only opened them again when the stairs came to a creaking halt.

“Dreaming of a world where you actually have friends, Granger?” A voice sneered from above her. Blinking, she saw Malfoy towering at the top of the stairs where he’d been waiting for them to turn to. It took everything she had not to let the conversation she’d heard a few nights before ruin the stony poker face she’d managed to aim at him. The pale boy started down the stairs, passing her while very purposefully not brushing against her.

“At least I know who my friends are. I don’t see you being chummy with anyone either.” She threw back at him, twisting on the step to look at his retreating figure. Malfoy didn’t bother to look back, and instead raised his hand to pass an obscene gesture her way as he continued on down the stairs. Hermione rolled her eyes and turned back to go up the stairs.

Walking down the corridor, her footsteps echoing across the bare stone floors, she couldn’t help but wonder what he’d been doing up here. The Slytherin Common Room was underground, near the dungeons. The library was on the other side of the Great Hall. The Transfiguration classrooms and some Charms offices were over here, but he hadn’t seemed to be taking those courses, or studying at all. Could it have to do with what Snape wanted to help him with?

“No,” she whispered to herself, shaking her head and the idea out of it. The only thing that Harry was right about was that Malfoy looked like shit. Recalling what she’d just seen, it was obvious he was going through something. His hair looked greasy, not like he hadn’t bathed, but as if he couldn’t stop running his hands through it. His eyes were half lidded and there were grey smudges under them. In fact, his entire face seemed to be tinged grey. It couldn’t be healthy, what ever it was. 

She continued on, winding her way through the corridors. He must just be bored, what with the castle being so empty and not a lot of fresh meat to torture. That made sense; it was a logical explanation at least. It made her breathe a little easier.

Turning right, she found herself in a hallway in which she’d found herself quite acquainted with the year before. The tapestry on one side of her, the seemingly empty wall on the other. Memories of ‘Dumbledores’s Army’ came cascading back to her, flooding her mind. The secrecy, the sneaking around, the rush of doing something that was against the rules. The corner of her lips tugged up a bit at the feeling. She missed it, being a rebel. Oh, she knew that she would always be a stickler for the rules at heart, but disobeying for something that she believed was right still made her feel so alive. The amount of times that she and the others had to run down this hall just to keep the stupid ‘Inquisitorial Squad’ off their heels-

Hermione’s smile faltered. The Squad. Malfoy. 

Malfoy knew about the Room of Requirement. He might not know everything about it, but he must have had some idea as to what it was. And how they used it. If he could get inside and use the Room for whatever he needed... 

But that would also depend on Malfoy actually having something to hide. A reason to require the Room of Requirement. Which would mean Harry could maybe, possibly, somehow be right. She shook her head again, but the idea wouldn’t budge this time. Instead, she needed a plan. That would help. Something concrete that would prove or disprove Harry’s theories. Logic, always something to fall back on.

Turning again on her heels, Hermione began to rush towards the Gryffindor Tower. She would have tried to look more casual, but the chances of her encountering someone on the way were slim to none. So instead, she looked like a half-crazed marathon runner, her flats slapping against the cold stone and her bag thudding against the side of her thigh. She had to keep one of her hands clasped around the opening of her bag to ensure that the papers wouldn’t fall and waste more of her time.

Finally at the portrait of the Fat Lady, Hermione managed to sputter out the password between breaths (“Butterbeer!”) and simultaneously chastise herself for not being in better shape. The Lady couldn’t open her door fast enough, or so it seemed, as Hermione went hurtling into the Common Room. Not surprisingly, no one was there. 

She ran towards her favourite plush armchair in front of the fire and pulled her bag up onto her lap. Rifling through her papers, she managed to find a clear piece of parchment. Carefully balancing a bottle of ink on one arm of the chair, she dipped her quill and moved to write on the parchment on the other. But there was nothing she could think of to write. The tip of the feather was hovering over the blank page for so long that drops of ink started to drip and form small pools. The starkness of the ink against the white made it looked like droplets of dried blood. She couldn’t think. What was she trying to do?

Write to Harry, perhaps? But then what? His methods would be curse first, ask questions later. Ron was out of the question, as was Ginny. Silently, she cursed herself for not having more friends. Ones that she could trust to help her figure out what to do.

Instead she took the parchment and crumpled it up in her hands, throwing it into the fire in front of her when she was done beating her frustrations into it. She watched as the flames caught the edges, making the ball turn into a tiny inferno as the paper curled. A few seconds later, nothing was left but some small black ashes. 

“Ugh!” Hermione groaned into the nothingness, slumping back in her chair to stare up at the ceiling. She was usually so good at planning things; intricate plans for her, Harry, and Ron to follow. Even if they usually blew up in their faces, there was still something there. And now she had nothing.

Maybe it was time to keep it simple. Do something that she never thought she’d ever do. Make conversation.

...............................................

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” The blonde sneered as the brunette slid onto the bench across from him, placing her plate of eggs and sausages in front of her.

“I’m eating breakfast.” Hermione replied nonchalantly, pouring herself a glass of orange juice. 

“Yes. I see that.” His voice was dripping with sarcasm as he watched her raise the glass to her lips. She stared at him back, slowly taking a sip and waiting for him to go on. “I meant, why are you eating it here?”

“I don’t know,” She shrugged her shoulders, setting the glass down and licking her lips. “Thought maybe we could have a chat.”

“Please,” Malfoy was still grimacing at her, his plate untouched since she’d sat down. “Like we could just ‘have a chat’. What is this, a tea party?”

“Well, since we’re in the same year maybe we could talk about our homework? We have potions together, how’s your essay coming along?” Hermione plopped her chin down onto her hand as her elbow rested on the table. She had to admit, watching his confusion towards their conversation was incredibly satisfying. Especially seeing how uncomfortable he was. Until his expression changed from confused to guarded, becoming defensive.

“Look, what do you want, Granger? I know you don’t care about my schoolwork, so get to the point.” He changed the subject rapidly, not wanting to take part in her charade. He wasn’t going to fall into whatever trap she had been trying to lay.

Hermione sighed. Maybe this wasn’t the best tactic after all. She knew that there was no way they could pretend to like each other, and it would be downright impossible for him to casually slip his secrets into a casual conversation anyway. But she knew that she had to try something. 

“I was just wondering if you were okay.” She winced at the sound of the words coming out of her mouth. Never in a million years would she ask about the welfare of this kid without having an ulterior motive, so they sounded incredibly insincere as they hung in the air between them. Malfoy’s mouth dropped open and he started to shake his head.

“No, I’m not okay.” He replied to her surprise. Until he followed up with, “Some bitch mudblood is trying to talk to me for no goddamn reason when all I want in the world right now is for her to fuck off and mind her own business.”

Now that comment didn’t surprise her at all.

“Alright then, just trying to be nice and all considering you look like shit.” Hermione stared him down as she stood up, not letting him think that his colourful language affected her in any way. Which it didn’t. She was used to it. 

Without waiting for a reply, she left the Great Hall in a manner similar to the night before. She was in a hurry to leave, finished with what was inside. But this time, she had a destination. She knew where she was going.

A few minutes and a flight of stairs later, Hermione was standing with her back to a giant tapestry, staring at a blank wall. 

I need to get in. She thought. Show me what Malfoy has been up to.

She paced back and forth, getting more and more frustrated with each passing minute. She thought the words over and over until she felt like her head would split open, as if her mind was screaming the phrases and hurling them towards the wall. 

“Come on, come on...” She muttered under her breath. “I need to know what’s going on!”

She looked back up at the wall, hopeful, and still it was blank. She kicked the wall with the toe of her shoe, then bounced back to hold her toe in her hands, hopping on one foot. Ouch.

“Please!” Her muttering got a bit louder. “I need to know how I can help!” 

The words flew out of her mouth before she realized what she was saying. She was so surprised at what she had said, she almost missed the plain wooden door that had surfaced on the wall before her. 

The thought of what she had said left her mind as she reached towards the door and wrenched it open, eager to see what was inside. Whatever she had thought she would see, this definitely wasn’t it.

It was a mess. Clutter, everywhere. Like her own personal hell. Except, the clutter was more than just clutter. There were stacks upon stacks of books, lined up to created haphazard rows through the room. Piles of old broomsticks, birdcages, and other junk filled the space. There was too much to take in.

Hesitantly, she started forward, running her hand along the spines of some of the books. Lifting one off the top of it’s pile, she opened it to see it’s title page. It was old. Hand printed, from the Middle Ages. Carefully, she set it back down.

There were so many things in the room and yet no noise. It was a jarring feeling, being surrounded but alone at the same time. Hermione started looking upwards, seeing things hanging from the ceiling like bats, and began to walk backwards. When she bumped into a piece of furniture that she hadn’t seen, a resounding crash echoed through the room. She winced, and then looked back up. Whatever was up there wasn’t alive. Or at least awake.

Looking back down, she turned to see what she’d hit. It was a large cabinet, with splintered wood and a bust with a wig on top of it. It sure could use a coat of varnish and a lot of T.L.C. Feeling brave, she reached out and slowly creaked open the door to see if there was anything inside.

There wasn’t.

Satisfied that nothing was of interest around there, she moved on. It would be so easy to get lost in here if you weren’t careful. There were tall shelves that she couldn’t see past and twisty angles where she wasn’t sure how she’d gotten through in the first place. But all these things, so much stuff, couldn’t tell her why Malfoy was so interested in the place. Was it the room itself? Was this really what he was seeing? Was it something in here?

Frustrated, she spun on her heel and tried to pick her way back through to the door. The Room of Requirement was certainly not in the mood to actually help her with what she needed, and now was not the time for her to not know things. She felt like she was falling apart. She couldn’t be so clueless to so much in her life, it just wasn’t possible. She needed to know things, to be in some semblance of control of her life. She knew that she couldn’t actually control everything, but if she knew all the facts she could try her best. She could try to figure out who was bad and who was good. 

Clouded by her thoughts, it took Hermione a moment to register the fact that the tall blonde boy she had eaten breakfast with was now standing in front of her, back facing her, placing his hand against the cabinet she'd opened moments before.


	4. Reasons

Stopping dead in her tracks, she watched as he turned to see who was making the footsteps, and see the same look of recognition on his face that must have just occupied her own. Fortunately, she had the upper hand and managed to whip her wand out of her pocket and point it towards him before he could reach his own.

“What are you doing in here?” She demanded, sounding braver than she felt. This was the confrontation she’d hoped for earlier, but didn’t know how to go about doing.

Malfoy kept silent, eyes darting between the wand pointed at him and the face of the person holding it as if trying to assess whether she’d actually use it. Hermione didn’t know how he could possibly still doubt her abilities, but to make sure he was on the same page as her, she fired a silent curse towards him. His eyes widened as a flash of purple light narrowly missed his head, disappearing into the wood behind him instead. She couldn’t help but feel a little proud of what she’d just done.

“I asked you a question,” she said slowly, pronouncing each syllable as if gently reminding a child. “What are you doing in here?”

“Nothing that you need to know about.” He finally replied, now only looking into her eyes, feigning courage. 

“Now, we both know that’s not true.” She slightly relaxed her wand arm, but kept her piercing stare on him. “You’ve been visiting here all year. You were caught, the night of Slughorn’s party, but let go. There’s something here that you’re hiding, for some reason. Whether or not your Voldemort’s new lackey, I don’t know, but you are most definitely up to something. And whatever it is, it’s damaging your health.”

Malfoy swallowed, his lips tightening with each word she said. Encouraged that she must be on the right track, she continued.

“I heard Snape talking to you, in that classroom during the party. He was trying to help you. What does he want to help you with? Huh? I swear, Malfoy, you’d better start talking.” Damn. She was really impressing herself today. She still had no idea if what she was doing was right, if she was admitting that Harry had been right all along, but whatever it was, this felt good. Finally, having some power.

“Is this what that whole fake-breakfast thing was about this morning?” He asked, still trying to sound like he didn’t care despite the fact that it was obvious that he feared what she could do with a wand. “Wanted to get chummy to know my plans?”

“Yeah, yeah, I admit, that didn’t really work the way I thought it would.” She relented, happy that he was finally talking back. “But the point still stands. So you admit, you have plans?”

The Slytherin scowled, bringing up a hand to push his hair away from his face. It was getting too long, but he didn’t seem to care enough to get it cut.

“C’mon, Malfoy. I’m willing to stand here for the rest of the break if that’s what it takes, but it would be so much easier if you just talked.”

“Fine.” He looked down. His face seemed to pale even more despite his naturally pallid features as he chewed the words in his mouth, unsure of how much to say. He seemed to come to a decision when he finally spit out: “He has my parents.”

“Voldemort?” She asked, despite the answer being obvious. Malfoy just nodded, still not bringing his gaze back up to hers. She wasn’t surprised about this information, considering the Death Eater’s failure last year at the Ministry. 

“They’re being held prisoner in our manor. I can’t talk to them. I don’t even know if they’re alive.”

Now this came as a shock. Not what the words said, but how they were said. His voice was strained, free of his usual malice. His swagger that was always apparent in his appearance and cocky way of speaking had vanished, leaving in it’s place a voice that sounded like that of a small, frustrated boy. There was still hate in his words, but not directed towards her for once.

But then again, Draco always was a good actor.

“How do I know that you’re telling the truth? And what does that have to do with this room?” Hermione straightened her wand arm again, as it was starting to wobble a little. She wasn’t used to having to hold it out for this long. But she needed to keep him on his toes. Even if he had some kind of sob story, that didn’t negate what kind of person he was. Or seemed to be.

“You don’t know, but you have to trust me. All I’m doing in here is opening up a line of communication for him.” Malfoy hooked his thumb over his shoulder, pointing to the cabinet behind him. 

“Communication for what?”

“I don’t know. Someone else is going to answer the calls. I’m just trying to fix it, redeem some dignity for my family.”

“Who’s the one answering the calls?”

“I don’t know. I’m not exactly trusted with that ‘privileged’ information, after everything that’s happened. No one in my family is. We made a mistake somewhere along the line and now my parents are paying the price.”

Hermione was struggling. She knew that Voldemort could very well be torturing his parents, and Merlin knows what that would do to a kid, but she also knew that Malfoy could lie. Or tell half-truths. Or manipulate people for their feelings. 

“Please, don’t tell anyone. Not yet.” He finally looked back up to see her studying his face, looking for tells. “I’m just doing a job. I have no choice.”

“You always have a choice.” Her face hardened as she said the words. She believed exactly what she was saying and that made it so much easier to spit out what she needed to say next, to spark some kind of reaction. “And you always choose to be a coward.”

Whether or not the words actually affected him, she couldn’t tell. His face also went stony as he stared back. That complicated things, as all Hermione wanted right now was a reason to actually fire a curse at him. 

But his eyes were still telling. Behind the stony gray was a boy who was hurt. A boy who missed his mom and dad. Or, at least his mom. And family was important. She knew that she’d do anything, literally anything, to keep her own parents safe. For him, it was too late. He just had to try his best.

“You won’t tell.” He stated it as a fact. Damn. She must have let her guard drop, or had paused for too long before making another move at him. 

“You don’t know that.” She tried in vain to redeem herself.

“Yes, I do.” He started stepping towards her. She took a step back to compensate, keeping her wand between them. “You root for the underdog, don’t you? Like with your silly little house-elf support group? Always cheering on the less fortunate.”

“I don’t see what S.P.E.W. has to do with anything we’re talking about.” She tried to muster up the courage she’d managed before, but was failing. 

“I’m just trying to get by now, you can see that.” Malfoy dropped his stony face and replaced it with a pleading one. “I just need to get through this year. I haven’t hurt anyone and I’m just trying to keep what’s left of my family. Please, don’t tell anyone. Leave me alone, and I’ll leave you alone. I’ll leave everyone alone.”

Her instincts were telling her to freeze him and drag him to Dumbledore’s office right then and there. He was a manipulative bastard. But he always had been big bark, no bite. Maybe he wouldn’t actually do anything wrong. Besides, he’d been working on this cabinet for months and made what must have been no progress. She could get away with just pretending this never happened, right? Then, if anything even remotely seemed out of place with him, she could report him at that time, with proof. If he succeeded, it might be her fault, but since when did Malfoy succeed?

Hermione lowered her wand arm but kept it by her side, ready to draw again. Malfoy followed the action with his eyes and let out a small breath of relief. 

“I’m not letting you off the hook just yet,” she reassured him forcefully. “I’ll be watching you. Any hair seems out of place and you’re dead, you hear me?”

“Does this mean you won’t tell anyone?” His eyebrows arched, almost surprised at her decision.

“Not yet, no.” She shook her head slowly. “But that doesn’t mean that I’m not willing too. But for now, no. Not even Harry will know. Though he is very suspicious, so I’d watch out for that if I were you.”

“Oh,” he let the sound out on a breath. “Thank you, Granger.”

She just realized that she had given him advice. Genuine advice. Against Harry. As in, in favour of his nemesis. She expected to feel guilty and ashamed but instead she just felt, good. Almost charitable. And he had genuinely thanked her back, without an insult. What the hell was happening, a Christmas miracle?

She cleared her throat, and motioned towards the door with her wand. Understanding that there were no more words left to be spoken, Malfoy headed out the door in front of her. Once they were both back in the hall, looking at the tapestry, she finally said something.

“I still don’t like you. And I still think you’re up to something.” She pushed him towards the stairs so he could head down to his Common Room while she headed the opposite way to hers. 

“I don’t like you either. In fact, I hate you. But that still doesn’t change what we agreed.” He turned on the stairs to look back her, making sure that the latter statement was still true. She nodded, and then flicked her hand towards him to indicate that he should leave now. 

As the boy who was almost a man turned on his heel to head down the stairs, the girl who stood at the top could’ve sworn she’d seen the beginnings of a smile creep on his face as he looked away. What a scary thought.


	5. Sorry

“So then Malfoy comes storming out of the classroom and I barely had time to get out of the way,” Harry’s hands were gesturing emphatically as he regaled his story to Hermione. Right before break ended, Harry and Ron returned to Hogwarts and the first thing the former did was rush to the Common Room to tell her about the night of Slughorn’s party. “I swear, I almost tripped over my cloak and ruined the whole thing before Snape followed after him.”

Hermione, seated in her favourite armchair across from the couch of her storyteller, tried to pretend to be engrossed in his story. That proved difficult, since she knew everything he was going to say before he said it. Instead of talking and possibly ruining everything, she politely nodded at him to go on every time he stopped to take a breath.

“But then while I was at the Burrow, I was talking with Lupin and he really doesn’t think that either of them are up to anything. I mean, it was so obvious that something was up from what they were saying! But Lupin also thinks he knows Snape better than me. I don’t know. I don’t know what to think.” Harry’s eyes sought hers and she struggled to return the contact. She tried her hand at a reassuring smile, but it came out as a grimace. His face fell as he saw her facial expression change. “You agree with Lupin, don’t you?”

“Well,” she started, trying to find the best way to put this; as if she hadn’t already had days to mull over the conversation she just heard about. “Yes. Snape could easily be pretending to be on his side and pretending to help him so he can find out what he’s up to. That is, if Malfoy is up to something.”

“If Malfoy is up to something? There’s no if!” Harry leaned forward, trying to get her to understand him. “He’s doing something and Snape knows about it. But no one else will do anything about it.”

“Malfoy could just as easily be going through some kind of personal struggles. Maybe him and Pansy are have relationship problems, or he has lots of daddy issues.” Hermione tried to make the words sound nonchalant, shrugging her shoulders while looking away from the green eyes that were boring into her in disbelief. 

“I can’t believe you’re taking his side.” Harry said, slumping back into the sofa and raising a hand to rub his forehead. 

“I’m not!” She said the words a bit too quickly. He raised his eyebrows at the exclamation, shaking his head and starting to get up to leave. She cleared her throat and tried again. “I’m not. I’m just trying to be rational here. Surprisingly, not everything is about Voldemort. Everyone has problems, even spoilt brats likes him. You need to calm down and try and look at things from different perspectives.”

Her use of an insulting name seemed to calm him down some, though it didn’t look like Harry really appreciated being reprimanded like that. But it kept him in his seat, even if he was now just looking away from her and into the fireplace, silent.

“Apparition lessons start soon.” She tried changing the subject. He didn’t respond.

“Ron really is getting tired of Lavender, isn’t he?” Still no response.

“Harry, it’s almost eight o’clock.” Hermione pointed to the clock on the wall. “You have an appointment with Dumbledore, don’t you?”

This finally garnered a reaction from Harry as he bolted upright. He muttered a thanks as he checked the clock himself, then grabbed his wand and bag from beside him and rushed out of the Common Room. Once his swishing robes were out of sight behind the portrait door, Hermione let out a breath of relief. This whole ‘trying not to choose sides’ thing was going to be hard. Especially since one seemed a hell of a lot more sympathetic than the other, at the moment.

That night, around midnight, Harry returned to the Common Room. After grabbing Ron from his dorm upstairs, they all sat near the fire where Hermione had stayed the night, trying to figure out what in the world she was doing. As he sat his two friends down to recount what he’d just learned in Dumbledore’s office, it was obvious that he was either ignoring the conversation about Malfoy or was too distracted to care about it anymore. Either way, she was happy that he didn’t bring it up. 

That happiness soon left after he described the memory Dumbledore showed him, of Tom Riddle asking Slughorn about Horcruxes. She frowned, not knowing that someone could give other people tampered memories. The frown deepened when Harry turned to both of them, asking for help on what to do.

“It sounded like Dumbledore trusts that you’d know how to get it back,” Hermione said, sparing a look at Ron. She hadn’t talked to him since he’d gotten back to Hogwarts, but now he was nodding along with what she was saying. Even if she couldn’t stand to be in the same room as him sometimes, at least they could still agree on Harry’s best interests.

“Yeah, mate. Besides, Slughorn loves you. He’ll do anything for his star student.” Ron said this with no underlying bitterness, just stating the obvious.

“He loves your apparent talent, at least.” Hermione looked back at Harry, giving him a knowing look. He shot her one back, meaning that he still had no intention of giving up that stupid textbook. 

“So what, I just go up to him and ask?” Harry sounded unsure. “Like, ‘Hey, sir, er, would you happen to know anything about Horcruxes? I’ve got no idea what they are but it seems like Voldemort sure does.’?” 

“Basically, yup.” Ron grinned at him, punching him in the shoulder.

“Fine. Tomorrow, after Potions, I’ll try.” Harry decided, still sounding dubious.

“Just make sure you let us know what he says right away,” Hermione tried smiling at him as well. She was relieved when he gave her a small smile back. 

....................

Waiting through Potions was hell. Harry kept glancing up at the clock while only giving half of his attention to the cauldron in front of him. It seemed like today wasn’t going to be one of his gold star days, in Slughorn’s books. He seemed really nervous, but there was nothing Hermione could do to help from her table, where she was having enough trouble on her assignment on her own.

The potion in front of her was supposed to be turning a powder blue colour as she mixed it. Instead, it was like looking down into the night sky; a midnight blue. While it was still a pleasant colour, it was nothing like it was supposed to be. It didn’t help that it was also turning into more of a sludgy substance than anything liquid. 

But her failure to complete the task had nothing to do with Harry’s impending meeting with the Professor. Instead, it had everything to do with the blonde Slytherin boy on the other side of the classroom who hadn’t said a word to her since they’d walked in, or bothered to look her way even when she answered one of Slughorn’s questions at the beginning of class. In fact, it seemed like he was taking every precaution not to look at her or associate with her.

Hermione didn’t want anyone to have this affect on her, which just frustrated her further, beyond any affect the potion in front of her had. Just look at me! She kept thinking, praying that he’d give her a look that would tell her that their confrontation in the Room of Requirement wasn’t just a dream or a trick in her mind. That she hadn’t been defending him to Harry for no good reason. That there really was a person behind those steely gray eyes.

“What seems to be the problem?” A voice interrupted her thoughts. Hermione shook her head slightly, tearing her eyes away from the other side of the room. Slughorn had been walking between the aisles and was now stopped in front of her table, staring down into her cauldron with a disgusted look on his face.

“Oh, uhm,” she grabbed the potions book from beside her, re-reading the instructions to see what she must have missed while her mind was elsewhere. “I just... I seem to have forgotten to add the wormwood. And crushed mandrake root. And,” she winced at the list, taking in just how much she missed, “the centaur hairs. Sorry.”

“No, no, no. It’s fine, no need to apologize.” The old professor waved his hand like she’d just forgotten to stir it for a bit. “I just expected a bit better from you.”

And with that, he continued on, leaving her with that lovely sentiment. She tried hard not to grind her teeth together as she saw him approach Harry with a smile spreading across his face. Hermione knew that it was wrong to be so bitter about Harry doing well in a class, but she also knew that it was for good reason. Damned ‘Half-Blood Prince’. More like a cheaters manual.

Alone again, she hurried to add some of the ingredients that she’d forgotten in an effort to salvage her potion. Her efforts proved useless though, when she noticed that the subject of her attention was now staring back at her from across the room. Dropping the powdered root into the cauldron, she dusted off her hands without breaking eye contact with Malfoy. The look on his face almost frightened her. Not because it was menacing, but because he was totally expressionless as he looked at her. Every feature on his face was totally relaxed, and yet stony, as if nothing could move them from where they were. Then, slowly, he shook his head and broke the connection, moving to start packing up his things. That was when she realized that she had totally missed Slughorn giving the class their dismissal, and everyone started standing from their stools and heading to the door.

Hermione watched as Harry took extra time to bottle his potion and put away his things, cursed textbook included. She knew that the sooner the room was empty, the sooner he could get his answer so she reached down and grabbed her bag, sliding her textbook under her arm, and darted out of the room. Once in the cavernous dungeon hallway, she stopped to wait outside the door for when Harry was finished. She hated not knowing what a ‘Horcrux’ was, and why Dumbledore needed that memory, so she hoped to be the first person he could tell.

The rest of the class trickled out of the door as well, until the door was shut by Slughorn, leaving him and Harry to talk. Certain that there were no students around to see her, Hermione slid down against the wall, sitting on her haunches beside the door; leaning one ear against the stone to try and maybe discern something from beyond it, similar to how she had listened in to Malfoy and Snape before Christmas. In a few moments she was settled in to listen to the garbled words she could hear from through the stone.

“What was that?” A voice from behind her, very clearly not from in the classroom, broke the silence in the hall. Hermione jumped to her feet and swirled around to see Malfoy standing in front of her with that same expressionless expression on his face. He must have noticed her staying behind and come back to confront her, somehow walking across the stone floor silently. She hoped this wasn’t about what she thought it was about.

“What was what?” She asked, trying her best not to look ashamed for being caught eavesdropping.

“In class. You kept staring at me. Why?” He kept his sentences short as he forced them through his teeth. 

“I just...” She struggled to find a reason that would sound the least crazy, grasping at anything that wasn’t the truth. He had something in his teeth? His face was now somehow the same shade of gray as the stone she had her back against? She opened her mouth again but no sound came out.

“You didn’t tell anyone, did you?” Malfoy asked, his face finally contorting to one of suspicion. Oh. He thought she looked guilty. Didn’t anyone around here trust her?

“No!” Another exclamation passed her lips more quickly than she’d meant for them to. “I mean, no. No one knows. I keep my promises, you know.”

“Well, stop it. Stop looking at me like you know something about me. I know Potter’s thick, but you were obvious. Even Goyle thought there was something wrong with you.” His words sounded concerned, an emotion she’d never heard coming through his voice before. It was too much. 

“I’m sorry.” Hermione muttered, eyes fluttering to look at the floor. She couldn’t meet his gaze as he stared down at her. In fact, considering what he just said and how embarrassed she suddenly felt, she couldn’t be around him anymore. Before she knew what was happening, she was halfway down the hall and up the stairs, her feet taking her as far away from him as possible. 

Harry’s problem would have to wait. She couldn’t understand what was going on with anything, not with what Dumbledore was missioning Harry with and much less her own problems. Abruptly hit with a wave of exhaustion caused by too many sleepless nights, she sat down on the stairs that led up to the Gryffindor tower. Her hands covered her face as she rested her elbows on her knees, hair tumbling all around her. The only thing she knew at this moment was that she regretted leaving the Slytherin boy that she hated alone in the underground hallways. She couldn’t think of a more lonely place to be deserted.


	6. Poison

Lately, Hermione had been doing a lot of things that she’d never thought she’d ever do before. Lying to Harry, protecting his second-worst enemy, and successfully apparating a few times were just the highlights of the list. Now, she was laying sprawled across her bed, face stuck to the pages of her books. Her sleepless nights had caught up to her so much so that as soon as she’d pulled out her notes for studying, she’d fallen asleep. It was a deep sleep, a dreamless one, where the only thing that was running through her mind was just how good it felt to not be thinking about anything.

That was, until the sounds of someone running up the stairs and screaming her name abruptly woke her from her slumber.

“Wait, what?” Hermione lifted her head, trying to see who had entered the dorm. Sitting up, she peeled a page from her cheek and rose her other hand to wipe the sleep from her eyes. After blinking a few times her vision cleared so she could see the girl with long flaming hair who was leaning against the doorway, trying to catch her breath. “Ginny?”

“You need to go downstairs,” the other girl managed to say, grasping her side as if to alleviate a cramp.

“To the Common Room?” Her eyebrows furrowed together as she tried to remember if there was some event she’d missed. She knew it was Ron’s birthday, but he would probably be spending the day with his girlfriend and there was no party planned; she was just going to drop by his dorm later and give him a small gift of chocolate frogs with a book and a birthday wish.

“The Hospital Wing.” Ginny’s face was grim. 

“What?” Hermione heard her voice rise an octave as she swung her legs of her bed, slipping her feet into the flats that were left there. “What happened?”

“Ron was poisoned.” 

“Who...why... what?” She was so confused. 

“I don’t know, but I thought you should be there with us.” Ginny shrugged, her eyes still full of concern for her brother. “He looks like he’s gonna be okay, but he hasn’t woken up yet.”

“Well, what are we waiting for.” Hermione strode to the doorway and passed her friend. “Let’s get to it.”

Ginny shook her head in response and pointed over her shoulder to where the boys’ dorms were located.

“I’ve already seen him,” she said. “Didn’t really enjoy seeing him in that state. Besides, I think I’ll go and grab a few things of his so he has them when he wakes up. A change of clothes, his wand, a book maybe.” 

Hermione nodded understandingly, biting her lip. It sounded like whatever poisoned him was taking its toll. Half-walking, half-running, she made her way down the stairs and out into the halls of the castle. Most of the student body were enjoying their weekend, having snowball fights outside or studying up in the library. This made it all the more obvious that she was running through the halls, her flats making loud thwacking noises against the stone with each step she took. 

As she made her way through the halls, she started reprimanding herself. She should’ve been there for him. Even if he had been an ass recently, they’d still been friends for so long and she couldn’t just throw that away because she might be jealous of the girl he was dating. They’d been through so much, too. Fighting trolls, being petrified, going to the Ministry of Magic. Always being there for Harry, together. His support system. 

So engrossed in her thoughts, Hermione almost missed the boy who was waving her down as she passed by. Coming to a sudden halt, she almost fell before she realized why she’d stopped. Malfoy was approaching her.

“Granger-” He started, not meeting her eyes as she looked at him. Instead, he stared pointedly at a spot over her shoulder as if he was addressing her directly.

“Look, Malfoy, I really don’t have time for this again.” Hermione was still embarrassed from their last conversation and didn’t want to complicate what she was going to with more thoughts about morality and the Room of Requirement; what was in there and what it meant.

“I know,” he said, which surprised her. “I heard about Weasley.”

“So you know that I really don’t have time to talk right now,” She turned to leave before feeling his hand on her shoulder, turning her back around. She looked down at the pale hand, and he withdrew it immediately as if touching her burnt him. That, she really did not appreciate.

“Granger, I’m trying to say that I’m sorry, okay?” Malfoy still wouldn’t meet her eyes, but his voice sounded sincere. “He didn’t deserve it.”

Hermione was speechless. An apology? Concern for someone that he despised? Hermione may have been doing things that she’d never done before, but this seemed downright impossible. She didn’t know how to respond, so she just stood there staring back at him silently.

“So, yeah. That’s all I wanted to say.” It was his turn to face the other way and start down the hallway. She scrambled to remember how to speak.

“Thanks.” She finally managed to get out, feeling her cheeks turn red. The boy looked over his shoulder and nodded to acknowledge her statement, then kept walking away. She felt cemented to the floor where she stood as she watched the retreating figure, eyes glued to the back of his pale blond head. Everything was so frustrating.

It was only once he’d reached the end of the hall and turned the corner out of sight that Hermione remembered what she’d been doing before that encounter. Twisting on the balls of her feet, she started her half-run down the hallway towards the Hospital Wing. Within moments, she was bursting through the double doors and full out running towards the bed that was surrounded by a few people. Pushing her way past a couple of his family members, she found herself looking down at the boy in the bed. His face was incredibly white, matching the sheets and pillow that lay beneath it, so his bright orange hair stood out more than normal. No one had taken the seat beside him, as if reserving it for someone else. Looking around herself at Ron’s other company, she saw neither Harry nor Lavender among them. Taking this as her cue, she approached the bedside and plopped herself down in the chair, reaching out to take his hand which was laying limply on top of the blanket. He was deathly cold.

“He’ll be okay,” said Madame Pomfrey, who seemed to appear out of nowhere at her side. “Just needs plenty of rest and peace and quiet.”

Hermione heard her not-so-subtle hint, but knew that no one was going to listen to her. Ron’s parents were on the other side of the bed, looking down at him with grim but relieved faces. Even Hagrid stood at the foot of the bed, twisting a hat between his hands. She looked back down to the boy in the bed and squeezed his hand tightly, as if to squeeze some life back into him. 

After a while more people entered the wing while others left. Mr and Mrs Weasley were escorted to a guest room in the castle. Dumbledore and Slughorn crept noiselessly in, checking on Ron and then moving back to have a whispered conversation. Harry joined Hermione by the bed, resting one hand on her shoulder and squeezing it reassuringly as they both looked down on him. Every entrance paled, though, in comparison to that of Lavender Brown.

“WON-WON!” A shriek echoed through the nearly silent room. Lavender ran up to the foot of the bed, which had cleared some, and stared down at Ron in horror. Her face was flushed as she registered the sight of her boyfriend who was a sickly white. Quickly, her expression changed from one of concern to one of pure, fiery rage as she saw Hermione’s hand wrapped around his. Lips curling, she hurled her next words at the girl at the bedside. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m his friend,” Hermione tried to say as calmly as she could, speaking for the first time since she’d entered the Wing. Lavender stared her down as she kept fuming, only fueling Hermione’s irritation towards her. They glared at each other for what felt like years until a stirring between them caused them to whip their heads away from each other and look at the source of the movement. Ron was mumbling something unintelligible. Both girls started leaning closer, trying to decipher is words.

“Her...my....nee” Each syllable passed his lips in a dreamlike murmur. His lips curled upwards as if in a grin, and then he quieted. There was silence for a moment and then, completely enraged and heartbroken, Lavender ran from the bed and out the doors of the Hospital Wings within seconds, the sounds of sobs trailing behind her. Harry tried to stifle a laugh from where he stood. Hermione herself smiled a little, more at the fact that she’d won whatever was between her and Lavender than at the fact that Ron had said her name from deep in his sleep.

Which brought her attention back to the fact that he’d said her name. Her name. What on earth could that mean? She’d barely talked to him since before Christmas break. Was she that engrained in his subconscious? Was he remembering something from their shared past? Did he maybe... possibly... inconceivably... have feelings for her? 

No. No, he couldn’t. He couldn’t, because she didn’t. Did she? Was there anyone else that she could have those feelings for?

There was only one face that appeared in her mind’s eye as she thought these things, a face that she couldn’t bear to admit was there. Shocked with herself, Hermione released the hand that she’d been clasping in her own as if it was suddenly burning her. 

“You okay?” Harry asked, looking down at her with concerned green eyes.

“Yeah, I just-” Hermione stood, pushing her chair back and forcing Harry to move to her side. “I forgot that I was working on something before this happened. If he’s just going to be sleeping, I may as well keep at it.”

He looked at her skeptically for a moment, then moved out of her way so she could get out of the small space between beds and make her way out of the room. Grateful that he didn’t question her, she gave him a small smile before walking towards the exit. She could hear the scraping of the chairs legs against the floor and, turning back, saw Harry taking her place at Ron’s side. That comforted her a little, knowing that she wasn’t completely deserting her friends. They still had each other. Meanwhile she was on her own to sort out her life, to sift through her priorities and make decisions that she didn’t want to make.


	7. Surface

It was game day. Hermione wrapped her arms around her chest, hugging herself to stay warm as she walked down the stairs of the castle to get to the field. Today was the day that Quidditch season started up again and it was Hufflepuff against Gryffindor; a fair match. After all the craziness that had been going on, it was nice to have a distraction like a good old fashioned sporting event. Even if the Keeper was otherwise preoccupied with recovering in the Hospital Wing and his alternate was a failed date of hers, Hermione was determined to have fun just watching her friends fly around and try their hardest. 

“Hermione! Wait!” 

Whipping around on the last step, she looked up to see Harry sprinting towards her. Harry, the captain of the team, who should be giving his team a speech in the dressing room at the moment.

“What the hell are you doing out here?” She asked, taking in his disheveled appearance.

“I just saw Malfoy- talked to him. He’s not coming to the match. I was wondering if you could tell Ginny that I‘m gonna be late and they may need to start without me.”

“And why would I do that?” She was incredulous at how serious he was about potentially missing the match.

“It’s my best chance now to figure out what he’s up to! Follow him while there’s no one else around, see where he goes. You know, all stealthy and whatnot.” Harry’s eyes were shiny and his voice determined, a scary combination. He wasn’t thinking properly, and was about to make a rash decision which would end up with him in deep trouble. Hermione stepped up to where he was and slapped him upside the head. He winced and rubbed the spot she’d hit. “Ow! What was that for?” 

“For even thinking about missing this game for Malfoy. You’re the captain! Your team needs you. Especially since they all have to deal with Cormac now.” She put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him gently down the stairs. “They must be waiting for you. Whatever Malfoy is up to, it can wait.”

Harry grumbled a few words that she couldn’t quite catch, but she knew that she probably didn’t want to hear them anyway. Then he heaved a sigh and turned back to her.

“I guess you’re right.” He admitted regretfully. “As always.” Of his own accord he turned back towards the field and started to sprint towards the dressing rooms. “See you after the match!” He yelled over his shoulder, not slowing his pace.

Hermione didn’t respond, instead watching to make sure that he made it all the way to the stadium and through the dressing room doors. After seeing the last of his robes disappear as the door closed behind him, she spun and ran up the stairs, back into the castle. Just because he didn’t need to know what Draco was up to, didn’t mean that she couldn’t check on him herself.

The castle really was empty. It had the same hollow feeling as it had had over the Christmas break. The whole school was ready to get back into the Quidditch spirit, it seemed. This made it easy for her to get up to the seventh floor in under ten minutes, quite the feat if she said so herself. Breathless, she paused in front of the wall that would open up to the Room of Requirement. She didn’t know for sure that he was in there; and if he was, what she would say. 

Well, just standing alone in a hallway wouldn’t accomplish anything anyway. Hermione sucked in a breath and decided that she would just do what her instincts told her. Act naturally. Go in without a plan. 

It scared the hell out of her.

One quick thought of ‘I need to talk to Malfoy ’ later and she was reaching out and pulling open the door in front of her. The room inside was exactly as she remembered it. Humongous, cluttered, and dusty. Each step she took seemed to echo off the walls, bouncing off the random objects that occupied the space. 

She closed the door behind her and started forward toward where she thought the cabinet was. That’s what he’d pointed to the last time they were in the room together, so it was her best bet. And just as she’d suspected, Malfoy was there. He was seated in a chair that he must’ve dragged from another part of the room, sitting with the back of the chair in front of him so he could cross his arms across the top, resting his head on them as he stared forward. He didn’t even look around as Hermione approached, though she could tell he knew she was there. 

“What do you want?” The words came out of his mouth raspy and forced since he didn’t bother to raise his head to speak, his chin digging into his arm with each word.

“Harry was going to miss the Quidditch game.” She stated vaguely, trying to catch his interest. 

He turned his head slightly to look at her out of the corner of his eye. After assessing her for a moment, he let out a snort and turned his head back to the cabinet.

“And why should I care about that?”

“Because he was going to miss it so he could follow you. Here.”

At that, he raised his head. It took him a moment to stand up from the chair and spin around to face her, his expression only barely concealing the flash of fear he felt of actually being followed by Harry.

“And?” He prompted, crossing his arms. “Why didn’t he?”

“I told him not to.” Hermione admitted, crossing her arms as well; adopting the same stance as him. 

Malfoy looked down at her crossed arms and immediately dropped his, raising one of his hands to push his hair out of his face. He began to pace around her, studying her. It made her feel incredibly uncomfortable and yet she held her ground, not giving him the satisfaction of slinking back or trying to leave. 

“Why?” He finally asked after making one full circle around her. The question was simple, but it made her chest tighten and her mouth felt like it was full of cotton balls. She didn’t know the answer, not really.

“Gryffindor could really use a win right now.” She thought of the first explanation that came to her mind which didn’t involve the the idea of ‘protecting him’. “And especially with Ron in the Hospital Wing, they needed him on the field.”

“So, it wasn’t for my sake then?” His eyebrows crept up his forehead and his eyes bored into hers.

Again, she didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t tell whether saying ‘No’ would be a lie or not. Whether she really had taken into consideration what Harry might do if he found out what Malfoy was doing.

“Harry doesn’t need to know this yet.” She said instead. She’d told herself that she’d follow her instincts in here, but she wasn’t sure she could trust them completely. Half-truths should suffice, right?

“But you’ll tell him eventually?” Malfoy asked pointedly, his jaw clenching after he said the words. He was taking a defensive standpoint. 

“If he needs to know, I will.” Hermione thought that was a pretty good answer. It explained why she hadn’t told him yet, and made herself feel better.

“Which, he doesn’t. He won’t ever need to know.” He dropped his gaze from her and started to walk back to his chair.

“How can you be so sure?” Her hands dropped from her chest and her palms turned forward, exasperated. “Actually, how can I be sure?”

“I already told you why I’m doing this.” He turned his face back towards hers. His expression was always torn between putting up his usual haughty guarding look and letting his underlying pain show through. “You don’t need to get involved. Unless you wanted to throw him off my scent or something. But otherwise, I can do this on my own.”

Hermione shifted her weight from foot to foot, twisting her hands together in front of her. She hated never knowing what to do anymore. 

“I can’t do that. Not without blatantly betraying him.” She said decidedly, watching has his face dropped and he turned away.

“Okay, then.” Malfoy sat back down in his chair, back actually against the back of the chair this time. He closed his eyes and leant back. He waved his hand at her dismissively and then folded them in his lap. “You can go.”

That just made her mad. Mad, and confused. Because she didn’t want to go. Instead she dropped to the floor a few feet in front of him, crossing her legs leaning back on her palms. She watched as he opened one eye and saw her sitting there.

“Getting comfortable, are you?” He asked tiredly, closing his eye again.

“Well, starting to watch a Quidditch match halfway through is no fun. So I might as well stay here.” She looked past him to the cabinet behind him, still not sure exactly what it was. As long as she stayed here, he probably couldn’t work on it at least. Maybe that was why she felt inclined to stay; to stop him from working, progressing in any way. Yeah, that had to be it.

“Sure,” he smirked, opening both his eyes now and looking down at her.

They were quiet for a moment, just looking at each other. Not just looking, judging. Waiting to see who would talk first. Who would crack. Who had something to hide; an ulterior motive. The air between them felt electric as they studied each other. 

He couldn’t forget his prejudices as he stared at her, but couldn’t act on them since he was vulnerable here in this moment. She couldn’t forget how he’d acted towards her in the past, but couldn’t help but understand his present circumstances and how his family had shaped him. She couldn’t stop thinking about how it would feel to be so afraid for your parents, to be responsible for whether they lived or died. These nagging thoughts caused her to be the first to crack.

“Do you want to talk?” Hermione offered, leaning forward and clasping her hands together in her lap. “I mean, about your parents or anything? Have you told anyone else?”

Malfoy mulled her words over for a moment, still gazing at her and trying to pick his own response carefully. She was beginning to fear that he wouldn’t actually respond when he also leaned forward and spoke.

“I have told someone. One other someone,” He started, looking down at his hands. “But they’re not really a someone. I don’t know. They pretend to understand but it’s been so long since they’ve been someone that I don’t think it’s real. It’s not the same.”

“Someone... who’s not a someone?” Her eyebrows furrowed together as she tried to piece that together. “You realize you’re not making any sense, right?”

“It’s embarrassing,” He admitted, slight colour coming to his cheeks.

Finally, some proof that there was still life under that pallid exterior. Hermione kept looking at him as he stared at his hands, picking at his own fingernails. Someone who wasn’t a someone. Someone who was willing to listen to anyone, who wanted company. Someone who was embarrassing to know. A thought struck her, accompanied by memories of said thought, and she couldn’t help but let out a laugh. Malfoy looked back up at her, startled.

“Please don’t tell me,” Hermione tried to stop herself from giggling. He was actually talking to her, telling her something, and she didn’t want to ruin it by making fun of him. But the thought was just too tempting. “Please don’t say that you’ve been talking to Moaning Myrtle about this?”

His cheeks turned an even deeper red as he dropped his gaze again. She couldn’t stop another laugh from escaping, but she tried to force down the rest.

“I mean, yeah, she’s uhm,” she tried to find the words to describe the ghost who haunted the girl’s bathroom. “She certainly takes a liking to boys. Any boy.”

“Hey!” He looked back up, the colour fading only slightly from his cheeks. “I take offense to that.”

“I didn’t mean it that way!” She rushed to respond, causing her own cheeks to blush a bit. “I meant... Well, she’s lonely. She’ll talk to anyone about anything. I guess I can see why you’d be able to talk to her. Though, I don’t know how secretive she really is.”

“She’s kept it so far, I don’t think she’ll start blabbing about it anytime soon,” Malfoy said in the ghost’s defense, before tilting his head and adding; “But I do know what you mean about her being willing to listen. I guess I never really thought about why.”

“‘How the lonely need another soul to cling to’” Hermione quoted a Muggle poet she’d grown quite fond of. She was so used to quoting and citing things that fit situations and problems she faced in class that she didn’t even realize she’d said it out loud until Malfoy looked at her questioningly. 

“That’s...nice, I suppose.” He said, his lips turning up in the corner like he was trying not to smile.

“Just, uhm,” Her cheeks grew redder than his ever had as she ducked her face for a moment to breathe. She thought he was laughing at her. She supposed she deserved it, having laughed at his expense just moments before. “Nothing.”

“No, really.” Malfoy’s tone was serious, causing her to look back up at him. What she saw was him reaching out a hand like he was going to touch her shoulder or push back her hair, be it as a comforting gesture or a reassuring touch, she couldn’t tell. But he caught her eye and stopped himself, pulling his hand back. Leaning back in his seat, he focused his gaze on a pile of books behind her. “It makes sense.”

“Okay,” Hermione said, simply because she didn’t know what else to say. She felt like she’d finally scratched the surface of what made Malfoy, Malfoy, and now she was at a loss for words to keep it going. When he didn’t look back down at her, seemingly lost in thought as he stared off into the distance, she took that as her cue to leave. With about as much grace as an elephant, she managed to get to her feet. Her movement caused him to finally look at her, and as she started to take a step back to leave, he stood up as well. She stopped in her tracks and looked at him expectantly, as if he was supposed to say something. But he didn’t.

“I guess, I should be going then.” She still wasn’t sure what to say, or do, or anything in this situation.

“Okay,” He responded and smiled slightly again, mocking her previous response lightly.

She was about to turn and walk away, back towards the exit of the Room of Requirement, when she was struck with a thought of a previous conversation of theirs; how she hadn’t ended it properly because she had been too distracted. Instead of leaving, she turned quickly and stepped towards him. She grabbed him lightly by the shoulders and leaned in, grazing his cheek with her lips and then pulling back. He was stiff from shock and staring at her in disbelief, waiting for an explanation.

“For being sorry about Ron,” she said quietly. “You didn’t have to be, and you were. Thank you.” 

When he didn’t respond, she twisted around and headed for the door. After a few steps she stopped again and looked at him over her shoulder. He was still where she left him, staring after her.

“And I’m sorry about your parents.” Hermione sought Malfoy’s eyes, but there was a glassy look to them, as if he wasn’t all there. She continued anyway, hoping the words got to him. “I don’t have to be, but I am. I’m sorry.”

And with that, she left for real. Closing the door behind herself, she headed down the hallway to the stairs, where she eventually found herself back outside on the castle grounds, walking towards the Quidditch pitch where she could hear cheering and chanting as the game must have been coming to a close. As she prepared herself to face Harry, and pretend that she’d been watching the entire game, Hermione thought of just how deep the grave that she was digging herself must be by now.


	8. Requirement

It turned out that Hermione didn’t have to deal with Harry right away, like she thought she would have to. McLaggen seemed to have done her a favour when he managed to knock out Harry on the Quidditch pitch. This gave her time to catch up on the game by piecing together different perspectives from Ginny, Luna, and Neville. By the time she was allowed to enter the Hospital Wing to visit Harry and Ron, there were no cracks in her story to leave either of them suspecting anything. They accepted what she had to say, especially her curses toward Cormac, in stride and didn’t notice anything wrong. 

Eventually, the pair of Gryffindor boys were released from the Wing and were able to start into their regular schedule again, something Hermione was thankful for since she had been stuck bringing them their homework everyday despite knowing that it would never be done. This then led to the two of them begging her for extra help on their assignments, leading them to their group study session in the library, something she was much less thankful for.

“So that’s why the properties of this particular potion-” Hermione cut off mid-sentence, then continued in a harsher tone. “I’m sorry, am I interrupting something?”

Ron turned away from Lavender, who had insisted on joining the group, which effectively stopped whatever conversation they were having. It seemed like whatever they had been talking about had not been a light topic, however, as Lavender pushed back her chair as she stared at Ron and then spun on her heel, storming out of the library. Harry, who was seated next to Hermione, turned to her and raised his eyebrows. She shrugged her shoulders and turned back to the book in front of her, indicating to him that it was none of her business and she really couldn’t care less. He took her note and turned to Ron with a sigh.

“Aren’t you going to follow her?” Harry asked.

Ron looked out towards Lavender had made her dramatic exit and the turned back to the other pair. Seeing no help from either of them, he let out an exasperated breath and picked up his things, leaving without a word.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Hermione said, secretly thankful that the pair were gone and that he had been the one to get rid of them.

“Yeah, I did. And he’ll thank me later. Those two really need to talk.” His voice had an edge to it, he resented their relationship just as much as she did.

“Speaking of troubled couples, have you noticed Ginny and Dean lately?”

“What?” Harry’s head made an audible creaking noise as he quickly turned his head toward her. 

“Uhm, yeah,” She was suspicious at his suddenly piqued interest. “Something about Dean being too distracted. Or maybe Ginny’s not as invested as he is. Something like that.”

“Oh,” It was obvious that he was trying to keep his voice level. “That’s sad, I guess.”

Hermione smiled a little to herself, recognizing his unwillingness to reveal his feelings. He totally had a thing for Ginny. His best friend’s little sister. It seemed they both had secrets of betrayal. One more... intense of a betrayal than the other, admittedly. But they were both hiding something. That was interesting.

“Anyways!” Harry was eager to change the subject as he reached into his bag to bring out a folded piece of old parchment. “While I was in the Wing, I asked Dobby and Kreacher to do something for me.”

“What?” She looked at him incredulously. “You’re using the house elves?”

“Not using!” Harry defended himself, throwing up his hands. “Taking advantage of a situation, yeah, but not using. Besides, it’s for a good cause.”

“And that cause would be?” She prompted, though she had a good idea what it would be.

“Tailing Malfoy.” He confirmed her fears, starting to unfold the parchment. “I keep trying to find him on the Marauder’s Map, but sometimes he simply isn’t there. So I thought, what better way to know than to ask two willing private investigators!” 

“I see,” Hermione could feel her face draining of colour as she thought of how she’d been tailing Malfoy herself. Had the elves seen her disappearing into the same room as him? That had only been once, but she’d passed by the Room multiple times while Harry was in the Hospital Wing. Just to see if he was there. She gulped, ready to take whatever he had to hurl at her. “What did they find?”

“Hermione, he’s using the Room of Requirement!” Harry exclaimed, his eyes taking on a crazed look as he searched hers for something. Surprise probably, since this was supposed to be news to her. Hurriedly, she tried to contort her face to something resembling shock. It seemed to be enough, because he continued on while he finished unfolding the map and touched his wand to it’s surface. “He must’ve figured out how to use it last year when we were in the D.A. -I solemnly swear that I’m up to no good- and has been using it for whatever Voldemort has charged him with this year!”

“Harry,” Hermione could feel sweat started to appear at the base of her neck and along her hairline. She bit her lip, trying to be her normal, skeptical self. “We talked about this. We don’t know that Voldemort has asked him to do anything. Or that he is up to anything.”

“Yeah, yeah,” He replied offhandedly, staring down at the page in front of him on the table. Finding the spot he was looking for, he folded up the rest of the map so only the seventh floor corridor was showing as she gazed down at it. A small banner bearing the name ‘Draco Malfoy’ was headed right towards where the Room of Requirement. “Aha! Well then, this is our chance to find out!”

Without warning he grabbed the map off the table and stuffed it into his bag, lifting himself from his chair. He motioned at her to stand up as well. Hermione struggled to think of an excuse not to follow him, but couldn’t think of one of the top of her head. Instead, she rose to her feet, stuffing her own books into her bag, and followed him out the door and through the corridors.

Damn, she thought to herself. This is where it ended. Harry was going to find Draco in the Room. Draco was going to call her out on betraying him. And then Harry would figure out that she had betrayed him. They’d both whip out their wands and she’d be dead. Well, probably not. But she’d have no one left who trusted her, and that was basically the same thing.

Soon, they arrived in the corridor. Harry seemed like he was going to wee himself with excitement. Closing his eyes and facing away from the tapestry, he started murmuring words to himself. Hermione watched as he opened his eyes and saw nothing on the wall across from them. Cursing, he closed his eyes again and began to pace, stopping every few laps to open his eyes and again find nothing. Hermione was starting to feel some relief. Maybe it wouldn’t open for him. Maybe the Room knew that she needed it to stay closed to him, at least for now.

“Why isn’t it working?!” Harry yelled out in exasperation. He seemed about ready to run at the wall and try kicking it down when Hermione ran to his side, holding him where he was.

“I don’t know,” she said soothingly, stroking his arm, “But there’s nothing you can do about it. Maybe you need to come back another time.”

Harry shook himself free from her grip, still staring at the wall which hid the Room of Requirement. He bent his head, holding the bridge of his nose between two fingers. 

“Okay,” he finally let out, raising his head. He drew in a deep breath, then let it out on another sigh. “It should’ve worked though.”

“I suppose,” she tried placating him. But now, she needed him out of there. She needed to try and get in herself, by herself. “You know, we kinda left Ron to his own devices with Lavender. You might wanna check up on him, if this isn’t going to work now.”

Finally tearing his gaze from the wall, he nodded and then started down the hall way. He must’ve been really lost in thought and his frustration because he didn’t turn back to see if she was following him. Or maybe he just thought that she didn’t want to deal with Ron and was sending him to do it for her. Either way, she was finally alone in front of the wall.

Drawing in her own deep breath, she shut her eyes and thought about how she needed to tell Malfoy about all of this. It came as no surprise that when she opened them again, there was a plain wooden door interrupting the smooth wall. Without a second thought, she went inside.

“Hey,” She called out as she entered, closing the door behind her. “It’s me.”

Malfoy’s head peered out from around a shelving unit. Seeing her, he frowned.

“Why are you here again?” His tone wasn’t exactly unwelcoming. At least, that’s what she hoped.

“You really need to be more careful,” She started, walking towards him and rounding the corner until all of his body was in her view. “Harry had you tailed. He knows you’re in here.”

“Oh, fucking shit,” He let out the words calmly, but then suddenly slammed his fist down onto a shelf beside him. The thud that came from it echoed through the room, cutting into silence. She wasn’t sure what to say next, and he didn’t say anything for a while. Withdrawing his hand from the shelf, he spun on his foot and covered his face in his palms, head thrown back towards the ceiling.

“I’m sorry, I tried to stop him,” Hermione really didn’t know how to comfort the boy in front of her, or whether or not she should. “I really did, but he knows now. Suspects the most. Maybe you could... stop for a while? Make him give up your scent?”

Malfoy didn’t respond right away. His hands slid slowly down his face until they were hanging at his sides. He was still facing away from her, his back the only thing for her to try and gauge emotion from. His shoulders were tense as his slender fingers curled up into fists at his sides.

“Stop?” He let out the word on a laugh as he spun again to look at her. “You think I could just stop this?”

Hermione was speechless. He was either ready to break down into laughter or tears, she couldn’t tell which. He stepped towards her, causing her to compensate by taking a step back.

“My parents’ lives are on the line and you think I’m going to be intimidated by Harry Piss-Pot-Potter?” He snarled, bring up a fist to point a finger at her. “As close as he gets- no, as close as you or anyone gets- I have to keep trying. I can’t fail. I could skip all of my classes for the rest of the semester, lose contact with every person I know, fail everything else that I attempt, but I CANNOT FAIL WITH THIS.”

His last words cut through the air even harsher than his fist had. He lowered his hand, letting them hang limp beside him as he stepped back again and leant on the shelves. His breaths were coming out shakily, verging on becoming tearless sobs. 

“I should’ve known,” she raised her hand and rested it on his shoulder. He didn’t even look down at her touch, just focused on slowing his breathing. “I’m sorry for even suggesting it.”

He nodded at her words and, finally satisfied that he wasn’t going to breakdown, looked back at her. His steely eyes were no longer shiny as they met her own. Instead, they bored holes into her as if trying to figure her out.

“You keep coming back.” He stated simply, still studying her.

“That I do,” Hermione replied, trying to force her mouth into a smile, desperate to lighten the mood a little. 

“Thanks.” Malfoy brought up a hand of his own to rest on hers, which was still on her shoulder. His own thin lips twitched a little at the side as he looked down at their hands together. As if only then realizing what was happening, he dropped his hand from hers and stepped back. He cleared his throat and started to direct his gaze everywhere else in the room but at her. “I’m sure Potter and Weasley must be wondering where you are.”

“Not really,” she admitted, shrugging her shoulders. He looked sharply at her, confused. “They’re a bit preoccupied most of the time. Ron with Lavender, Harry with, well... you.” She smiled at that, hoping he realized the humour of the situation. “So they don’t really notice when I’m gone.”

“Ah,” His eyes wondered off again, taking in that information. “Sucks, doesn’t it. Not having anyone to care whether you live or die.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” Hermione bit her lip, hoping that she wasn’t divulging too much. “But it does. No one who will listen or help.”

He nodded. He understood.

“But, you know,” Hermione stepped forward again, towards him. “I meant what I said before. I’m willing to talk, or to listen, or anything you want.”

“Anything?” He raised an eyebrow, peering down at her.

“Oh hush,” she pushed him lightly on the arm, avoiding his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

At that, Malfoy laughed. An honest to God, whole hearted laugh. The sound of it made her heart skip a beat. 

“But you’re right,” Hermione declared, causing him to stop his laugh and glance back at her. “I should be going. Dinner is soon and I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

“Well, that constant rumbling coming from your stomach sort of gave it away.” He poked his tongue out between his teeth as he laughed some more when she looked down at her stomach in horror. Realizing that he was just joking with her, she defiantly spun on the balls of her feet and headed towards the door. With one hand on the handle, she turned back to him.

“And I’d better see you in the Great Hall at your table. You’re getting skinny.” She meant it as a joke, but it came out sounding sincere. He really was looking malnourished. 

Malfoy only nodded at this, crossing his arms. It wasn’t a promise, but it was something. Smiling back at him, she wrenched open the door and headed out to the hall. When the door closed behind her, she leaned back against it and stared at the tapestry in front of her. It really was a hideous thing. Old, too, like it had been hanging in this corridor since it had been built. She wondered how long she could keep this secret, if she could keep doing this until the fabric started to rip under the weight of hanging against a wall for centuries.


	9. Return

The air was crisp and cold as Ron and Hermione made their way back from Hogsmeade. While the open carriages that brought them to the school from the train station at the beginning of the year were nice and airy in the fall, the tail end of winter was a different story. Snow still lay on the ground and the two young wizards were resigned to sitting close together on their bench to try and keep warm as they headed back to the castle after one of their final Apparition lessons. It was sufficiently awkward.

“So,” Ron began after a good ten minutes of silence between the two of them. “What’s new with you?”

“Nothing, really,” Hermione gave him a tired look out of the corner of her eyes, not in the mood to divulge any information. The less she said, the easier it was to keep her secret. Since she was so exhausted from the effort it takes to apparate, she didn’t have enough energy to keep up a real facade. “With you?”

“Nothing,” He answered gruffly, rubbing his hands together. “The usual, you know. Lavender being Lavender. Listening to Harry drone on about Malfoy. The fun stuff.” 

Hermione nodded and gave him a weak smile, really just a slight turn of the lips before letting her face fall again as she looked over the landscape. As she took in the familiar sight of the approaching castle, she wished that someone else had come into their carriage with them. Or that she’d chosen to ride with someone else; anyone else. Ron and Lavender had just been getting steadily more and more irritating as the days went on, it was a wonder they were still together. Just seeing Ron, even by himself, made her want to throw up a little in her mouth. Just a little.

“You know, I haven’t been seeing too much of you around,” Ron kept trying to have a conversation, as if trying to mend the obvious break between them. “What have you been up to that’s so time consuming? I mean, besides your usual studying habits?”

“Nothing,” She repeated, a little too quickly and a little to harshly. He raised an eyebrow at her and she had to look away again. That questioning look reminded her too much of someone else, but Ron’s lacked the same air of swagger and propriety that she’d preferred. She tried desperately to cover up. “I mean, we only have a year left after this one so I’ve been doing a lot more studying. Like you said.” 

“Okay...” Ron said, drawing out the last syllable to emphasize the awkwardness of her response. “Well, whatever you’re doing, you know that Harry and I have your back, right?”

Hermione opened her mouth but couldn’t think of what to say. Instead she nodded again and tried for a more genuine smile. If only he knew, she thought, then he might be singing a different tune. The ridiculousness of the situation hit her and she managed to pull off a real smile. Ron and Harry, supporting her through everything, meant that they were unintentionally supporting her helping Malfoy. Their arch-nemesis. 

At what point did it start becoming ‘their’ and no longer ‘our’? Hermione thought she knew the answer but really, what did it matter. When they found out, they’d never forgive her. ‘Siding with the enemy’ and such. She hadn’t meant to, and technically she hadn’t really helped Malfoy, but she knew where her heart was turning; and it wasn’t toward the Boy Who Lived and his ginger sidekick. 

After what felt like an eternity of awkward conversation and long pauses, they were stepping through the doors of Hogwarts. They’d spent the entire Sunday in Hogsmeade, eating there instead of coming back in time for dinner, so the two of them made their way straight up to the Gryffindor Tower once they were back in the warmth of the castle. They were stopped in the Common Room though, by a very excited Harry.

“I’m going to get the memory tonight!” 

It took him no time at all to explain his plan. He was going to take the Felix Felicis potion he’d won a few weeks ago in Potions class. Then there would be no way he could fail at retrieving the memory from the reluctant professor. 

“That’s a great idea,” Ron said, nodding his head. Hermione nodded hers along with it, showing her support for the plan. All three of them became bobble-heads as they stared down at the little gold bottle in Harry’s palm.

“Well, here it goes,” Harry shrugged and drank half of the potion, licking his lips after pulling the bottle away from his mouth. He stood there for a second, letting the drink take it’s effect. 

“Are you going to go to Slughorn’s office?” Hermione prompted.

“No,” Harry said strangely, furrowing his brow as he thought. Then, when he spoke, his eyes went slightly unfocused and his voice was off. “I think I’m going to go down to Hagrid’s. For the funeral.”

“What?” Ron and Hermione exclaimed in unison.

“It’s after curfew,” Hermione tried to reason with him as he started to push towards the door of the Common Room, “You can’t go out of the building.”

“But I have such a good feeling about it, Felix wants me to be there,” Harry insisted. Hermione gave him an exasperated look before looking back at Ron, beckoning for him to do something.

“Harry,” Ron started, “You do realize Felix isn’t an actual person, right?”

“I’m doing this, whether or not your coming. Hagrid’s is the place to be tonight.” And with that, Harry turned away and was out the door, leaving Ron and Hermione staring behind him.

“Well then,” Hermione was the first to regain her composure after that odd experience. “I’m going up to bed, then. Long day.”

Without glancing back or waiting for a response, Hermione made her way up the stairs to her dormitory. She threw off her robes and collapsed into her bed, thankful that none of her roommates were retiring yet. In the peace and quiet she watched as the moon rose in the sky through her window, concentrating on it’s white surface to keep from thinking about anyone in particular, until her breath slowed and she fell asleep. 

...

The next morning, she bounded into the Great Hall, full of energy. Last night had been her first full night of sleep since the summer, and she could feel the difference it made as she sat down across from Harry at the Gryffindor table. She was about to ask how his night went and apologize for not staying up to see what happened, when the attention of everyone in the room was drawn to the entrance. 

Katie Bell, who’d been cursed earlier in the year from a necklace given to her in the Three Broomsticks, was back and seemingly healthy. People rose from their tables to welcome her back, but Hermione and Harry stayed where they were, looking at each other.

“Don’t bother asking,” Ron approached the table and sat next to Harry, picking up a piece of toast from the centre. “She doesn’t remember who cursed her. She’s just glad she recovered.”

“That’s a shame,” Hermione slumped back in her seat, noticing how Harry’s face fell as well. She grabbed the glass in front of her and started to fill it with pumpkin juice, preparing to ask Harry about his night. His face hadn’t just fell, he seemed to be carrying a weight on his shoulders.

“Lavender and I broke up.” Ron blurt out, dropping the toast on his plate and looking down at his lap.

“Oh,” Hermione almost dropped her cup in surprise. “I’m... sorry?”

“It’s okay,” Ron shrugged, “It was coming for a while, I guess. I dumped her, anyway.”

“ ‘Atta boy,” Harry thumped him on the back. His expression was still grim, but it was obvious that he wanted to be there for his friend. Hermione smiled a little at the thought of what good friends they were for each other, so loyal and there for each other. The perfect imperfect pair. She felt a little lost in the moment as the only feeling she felt towards the situation was relief that she wouldn’t have to deal with the couple any more. 

“Yeah, well, anyway,” Ron looked up again and cleared his throat, straightening his shoulders, asking the question that Hermione hadn’t gotten to yet. “How did it go last night?”

Harry’s face set back in it’s heavy expression as he explained how he’d met Slughorn on the way down to the grounds, and how he’d been successful in retrieving the memory. He’d gone straight up to Dumbledore’s office, which was nice to hear for Hermione since she felt less guilty for not staying up to meet him and hear his story. He went on about the contents of the memory, but Hermione lost track of the conversation as she looked over the shoulders of the two boys to see the pale face of another boy at the table across the hall.

Malfoy hadn’t shifted his gaze since she’d entered the room, his eyes were still locked on Katie Bell. His complexion was an even more washed out white than usual, and he was swallowing nervously as he stared at the healed girl. 

Hermione couldn’t understand what would warrant his reaction to Katie’s return. It was like he was worried, even though she seemed perfectly fine now despite being slightly traumatized. Like her being back was a bad thing...

No. She couldn’t believe it. He wouldn’t have! Would he? Hermione knew that there was every possibility that he could have done it, he could have been the one to cause what happened to Katie. But why? She tried to meet his eyes, but his were glued Katie as he rose and left the Great Hall.

It took everything Hermione had to pretend to listen to the rest of Harry’s retelling of the memory. When he’d stopped speaking and looked at the two of them to gauge their reactions, Hermione couldn’t meet his eyes. 

“Listen,” She started, keeping her gaze anywhere but at Malfoy. “I have to get to class early to speak with McGonagall about my essay, but we need to talk about this later, okay?”

Harry nodded, confused, then turned towards Ron to hear what he had to say. Hermione didn’t hesitate as she stood and left, following the figure ahead of her out of the hall and down a side corridor, leading down to the dungeons and presumably the Slytherin Common Room. She wouldn’t let him get that far.

She rushed so that she was right behind him. He didn’t turn around, probably too lost in his own thoughts to hear her footsteps against the hard stone. She pushed him lightly with both hands against the back of his shoulders. She could feel his muscles tense beneath her touch as he spun around to face her.

“What do you want?” His voice was quiet and strained, though it was obvious he was trying to force them to sound intimidating.

“What did you do?” She demanded, crossing her arms in front of her.

“What do you mean?” Malfoy looked down the hall to see if anyone was listening to their exchange. Thankfully there was no one around. 

“Katie. You did something to her, didn’t you?”

“What?” Malfoy looked taken aback, but he wouldn’t meet her eyes. His voice came out higher than she was used to hearing. “No! Of course not!” 

“Malfoy,” Hermione said his name gently, not entirely sure why. If he had done something to Katie, that was utterly deplorable, but she had to know why he had done it. “You know that I won’t tell anyone if you did. Please, just tell me.”

“It wasn’t me,” He insisted firmly. 

“Malfoy, if you’re lying... if you’re lying about anything you’ve told me,” She put emphasis on the ‘anything’, knowing that all of their interactions this year were along the same strain as this. “You also know that I’m not afraid to hurt you. Just be honest with me, please.”

Malfoy glanced down at her hands with were gripping her own arms. Probably remembering the time I punched him, Hermione had to force herself not to grin at the memory. She hated to admit it, but hitting him when he was being such an ass in third year felt really, really good. 

“It wasn’t me,” He maintained, talking slowly as if he was actually afraid she’d hit him. She immediately regretted threatening him as she recalled the look on his face as he described living in fear for his parents. Being afraid that any of his actions could get them killed. “But I know who did.”

“Who was it?” She lowered her arms, trying to make herself seem less intimidating. The thought was almost comical as she had to lean her neck back to look up into his eyes.

“I can’t say,” His lips went thin as he stared back down at her. His eyes were shining as they looked into hers. “Trust me, okay? I just, I have to go.”

And with that, Malfoy walked past her, away from the Slytherin Common Room and down another corridor on the first floor. She watched as he sped away, everything about his body tense as he strode. She didn’t know what the think, what to make of the situation. She had to trust he was telling the truth, she had to. Otherwise, what did that make her? Someone who cared for a monster?

Hermione heaved out a sigh, wondering if she could make it back to the Great Hall in time to grab some food. She’d left her breakfast untouched with all that had happened. But that might mean running into Harry and Ron again, and she couldn’t do that. Not today. So instead, she made her way back to the Gryffindor Tower to grab her things before classes started. She didn’t get off the hook completely though, as she saw Harry walking out of the Great Hall and heading off towards the first floor bathrooms. They waved as they passed each other, and Harry didn’t seem to have been suspicious of the fact that she wasn’t coming back from the Transfiguration rooms, probably too lost in his own world to notice, so Hermione bounded up the staircase two at a time, feeling confident and and guilty and every emotion in between.


	10. Sectumsempra

Hermione could not believe what Harry had just told her. Her heart began pounding in her ears as she processed the information and then before she knew it, her hand was flying through the air before it found contact with his face. A loud smack resounded through the Common Room and people turned to look, but she didn’t care.

“I told you that book was evil!” Her voice was shrill but she couldn’t care less about how she looked or sounded. “I told you whoever wrote that was bad news and now look at what you’ve done! You could’ve killed him!”

Harry was staring at her incredulously, one hand up to his face where she’d left a stinging red mark. He tried looking to Ron for help, but the ginger just shrugged his shoulders, taking no sides.

“Just because one spell happened to be bad doesn’t mean the entire book is bad!” Harry adjusted his glasses which she’d knocked askew and crossed his arms as he looked at her. “What do you care what happens to him, anyway?”

“Nothing,” Hermione hoped her face wasn’t betraying her by blushing as she lied. “But whether or not you kill another student at your school is absolutely of my concern.”

Harry just shook his head while turning away, making to sit in one of the couches by the fire. She supposed hitting him had been a bit much, on top of his getting weekly detentions and not being able to play Quidditch any more. Or see Ginny. But she didn’t care. He deserved it. As shitty a person as Malfoy had been in the past, he hadn’t done anything like this. Just the sound of the curse, ripping through his skin and bleeding out on the bathroom floor, was enough to warrant at the very least a good slap across the face. 

Hermione just curled up her hands into tiny fists at her sides as she watched Harry sit down, Ron moving to sit beside him. She couldn’t take it anymore. Without another word or any explanation, she left the Common Room and made for the Hospital Wing.

As she half ran through the halls, she was reminded of when she’d rushed to Ron’s aid after he’d been poisoned. Her flats slapping against the floor, being stopped by Malfoy in the halls. Even then he’d looked poorly, his skin pale and eyes dark. He didn’t need this on top of all that he was going through.

Within minutes, she was at the entrance of the Wing. It was evening, visiting hours had to be over by now. She tried the door and surprisingly it opened under her touched. Quietly, she trod forward, scanning every bed in the long hall for the boy with blonde hair.

She found him in the same bed that Ron had occupied. His frame was thin and almost too long for the bed, but he filled the space and seemed at least somewhat comfortable, considering the massive bandages strapped across his chest that prevented him from wearing a shirt and kept him from being able to move. His eyes were closed and, as she got closer and closer to him, she could the thin veins that lined his eyelids, moving as his eyes seemed to dart back and forth under them. He was resting, but not easily. His slender hands were curled into fists on top of the sheets and when she reached out to touch his arm, all of his muscles were already tensed under his thin skin.

His eyes burst open and his head raised off the pillow at her touch, warm against his freezing skin. He tried to sit up to see who was with him, but couldn’t without bending the bandages. His head flopped back onto his pillow and he turned his head on it to look at his visitor, pale hair falling into his eyes.

“Hermione?” His voice was groggy and confused as he struggled to focus on her face. She nodded, too concerned about him and whether or not Madame Pomfrey would walk in on her trespassing to notice him using her first name for once.

“I’m here,” She moved her hand from his arm down to his hand, gently unfurling his fist so she could rest her hand on his.

“Who knew Potter had it in him,” Malfoy turned his head back on his pillow to stare up at the ceiling, wincing as any movement seemed to disturb his wounds.

“I’m so sorry,” Hermione said softly, “I know that I can’t speak for him and he had no right to do what he did, but I’m sorry.”

He looked at her through the corner of his pale grey eyes, searching her face. His lips tightened and he closed his eyes again, taking in a deep breath as if to calm himself.

“You’ve got a strange choice in friends, Granger,” The corner of his mouth tugged up as he said it. 

“Trust me,” Hermione gave him a small smile back, squeezing his hand as lightly as she could. “I know.”

She felt a wave of relief as he returned the pressure, bringing up his fingers to curl around hers. They sat there for a few moments, taking in the silence, drawing strength from each others touch. She couldn’t believe she was in this situation, comforting someone she hated for so long but couldn’t bring herself to hate now. Not when he was hurting so much. Not when he had so much to lose, all because of the world he was born into. She started tracing circles with her thumb on the pad of his as she contemplated what to say next.

“Is there-” She mulled the words over in her mind before she continued. “Is there anything else going on with you?”

Malfoy opened one of his eyes to look at her, the corresponding eyebrow raising in question. She smiled at the sight.

“I mean, besides being almost killed by one of my best friends, is there something else wrong?”

He let out a breath and took his hand from hers, bring both of his up to his face to rub at his eyes. He looked so tired, she felt guilty keeping him up like this. But she knew she was helping more than harming, or at least she hoped. She missed having his hand in hers the moment he withdrew it, but she was relieved when he decided to respond, hands still on his face.

“The Cabinet.” He finally let out, dropping his hands and turning his whole head to look at her.

“The one you’re using to communicate with your family?” Hermione recalled the tall, beaten up cupboard he’d pointed to in the Room of Requirement. He nodded.

“Basically, yeah. But I haven’t heard from anyone in weeks. I don’t know what’s going on with my parents, and I still haven’t figured out how to work it.” His voice was gruff, thick with the sleep he was just in and frustration.

She stared back at him, unsure of how to respond. Going so long without knowing if your parents are dead or alive, if them living could even be called living in the state that they must be in, must be unbearable. Especially if their fates were riding on your shoulders. That’s too much for anyone to handle, let alone a teenage boy who hadn’t even finished his schooling yet. A teenage boy who looked like he was losing all hope, killing himself in the process of an impossible feat.

“What kind of a cabinet is it?” Hermione asked, suddenly struck by an idea.

“Vanishing Cabinet.” He responded, puzzled. “It’s twin is in Borgin and Burkes.”

“So, basically, you vanish in one cabinet, reappear in the other?” She worked out it’s purpose pretty easily. And she remembered that time when she, Harry, and Ron had followed him into Borgin and Burkes that summer, and Malfoy had mentioned the Cabinet then.

“Yeah,” His face started to change into something resembling hope as he saw the expression on her face. She was staring down at him, determined about what she was going to do.

“I can help,” She confirmed his suspicions, smiling down at him. “I will help. I’ll take a look tomorrow, I promise.”

“Are- are you sure?” Malfoy reached down and grabbed her hand where she’d left it beside him on the bed. He started to lean up slightly towards her. He knew she was more clever than he was, maybe she actually had a chance of fixing the damned thing.

“Yes,” Hermione responded, more confidently than she really felt. Doing this would be actively helping him, but she couldn’t find any way around it. She couldn’t just leave him to keep working in vain, to go home to any empty mansion; empty except for the corpses of his family. She used to think that in life there was only right and wrong, but know she knew there were a million shades of grey, all of which she saw in his eyes. Along the way you just had to hope you were picking the right shade, which she hoped she was doing now. She intertwined her fingers with his and gave his hand another comforting squeeze, reassuring him further of her choice. 

“Thank you,” The words came out on a breath as his eyes started to flutter close. He needed rest so he could heal.

She leaned forward in her chair, ready to stay the night. And there, holding his hand in hers, she knew that this couldn’t be wrong. She couldn’t be wrong. She was helping someone in need, something her own parents had always taught her to do. Slowly, she rested her head on the bed beside him, her hair brushing his arm, and she followed him into a slumber where she had the most glorious dreams she’d ever had; filling her with hope and peace and comfort in times of such unrest.


	11. Touch

Hermione was woken up by some very choice harsh words and a soft blow to the back of her head as Madame Pomfrey made her morning rounds of the Hospital Wing, which was unfortunately only Malfoy at the moment, making her presence all too obvious. Leaping back from the touch and apologizing profusely, Hermione released the hand of the boy she’d fallen asleep with and stood up, almost tripping over her feet as she was ushered out of the room. 

As the irritated nursemaid closed to doors behind her, she could see a blonde head rising out of his pillow to see what the fuss was about. She hadn’t gotten a chance to say goodbye to him. To wake up with her still next to him. As she turned to rush to her dormitory for her things before classes started for the day, Hermione promised herself that she’d never let that happen again.

And she had another promise to keep. She had to find some time in the day to go the Room of Requirement and assess the situation that Malfoy hadn’t found an answer to yet. It didn’t seem like she’d have chance to any time soon, though, as she was already late for her first class of the day and she’d have to spend lunch with Harry and Ron in order to keep up appearances.

The first classes of the day went smoothly; Harry gave her a questioning look as she entered Transfiguration late but didn’t seem to mind as she waved it off. He was probably still mad at her for hitting him yesterday. Her second class had neither of them in it so she had some time to think of an explanation for where she’d gone last night. Hopefully she wouldn’t have to put an excuse in action, nothing she could come up with sounded the least bit plausible to even her own ears.

“So, where’d you run off to last night?” She should’ve known she wouldn’t start having luck on her side now. Ron asked the dreaded question as soon as she sat across from him, beside Harry, at lunch.

“Library,” Hermione knew she’d have a higher chance of getting away with it if she used short, concise answers. She tried to muster up a voice that sounded confident. “Had to cool down.”

“Of course,” Ron said sarcastically. He smiled at her good-naturedly, however. “Where else would someone go when their pissed? The library, wow, that was so obvious.”

She shot him a look as she picked a sandwich from the pile in the middle. Without even looking to see what kind it was, she dug in. After chewing a couple bites in silence, not really tasting anything, Hermione thought of something that could help throw them off her scent.

“Hear anything about Malfoy?” She asked innocently, setting down her sandwich on her plate. She knew she was poking the bear, metaphorically Harry was the bear, with the topic, but she knew that her interest wasn’t totally unwarranted.

“He’ll be fine,” Harry responded darkly, as she would have expected. “You know how he exaggerates.”

“Well, it didn’t really sound like he’d have to exaggerate in this case.” Shit. She was defending him, she couldn’t help it. It just seemed natural now.

Harry just looked at her, studying her face as she kept her expression blank, blameless even. 

“She’s got a point,” Ron was still chowing down on his own lunch. He seemed overeager to not take sides since he’d broken up with Lavender, like he finally realized how ridiculous he’d been acting while she was around and was now trying to make up for it, for both of them. He seemed especially ready to appease her, actually. It was annoying.

“Why, thank you, Ronald,” She didn’t meet his eyes as he brightened at her use of his name. Like acknowledging his existence was a gateway to forgiveness. It didn’t really matter to her, the pettiness of it all. She was just thankful that Harry had finally turned away, dropping whatever suspicions he might have had. Hopefully.

And with that, lunch continued on with half-hearted conversation and nothing real was ever said. The trio went their separate ways for their afternoon classes, and Hermione decided that it would be best for all of them if she didn’t show up at dinner. She had things to do, and Ron would probably insist on spending the evening together and catching up or something like that. 

With that, she found herself entering the Room of Requirement with no trouble at all while the rest of the castle tucked themselves in for a meal. She could drop by the kitchens on the way back from the Room to the Gryffindor Tower; it was a detour, but Harry wasn’t the only one with house elf connections. 

She stopped in front of the cabinet that she’d only really looked at once before. It’s wood was still splintering and in desperate need of a good stain job. But the outside wasn’t what mattered. No, what was inside was much more important.

Hesitantly, she reached forward to touch the handle, almost expecting it to spark when she made contact. Instead, she found that the door swung open easily, needing little encouragement to move on it’s hinges. That would definitely need fixing. But what she found lying on the floor of the cabinet was the real issue.

A small bird, probably some sort of swallow, was lying against the wood. It’s taloned feet were curled up against it’s body, obviously dead. It made her heart twist to look down on the innocent animal. She knew that it was for the best, though. Better a dead bird than a dead human. Tenderly, she picked it up in her hands so she could clear the area. Twisting around, she found what she was looking for amongst the mess of the room, a box. It was a hat box, but there was no hat inside so she placed the bird down and put the lid back on, sealing it away forever.

Turning back to the Vanishing Cabinet, Hermione settled in to examine it. The idea of it was very basic; disappear one place, reappear in another. Almost like Apparition. But the wizard had to rely on an object instead of their own magic to handle their displacement. They had to trust that the link between the two was completely aligned. If it was slightly off kilter... maybe that was what was keeping them from working. The journey from one point to another was so dramatically changed from one of them being not quite of working order that it would kill whoever tried to get through. 

Hermione remembered hearing about how this particular had been dropped from quite the height in their second year by Peeves. If that was the case, then Malfoy definitely had done a good job repairing that physical damage; regaining the structure of the Vanishing Cabinet. But maybe it was more than the shell that was damaged, and that had to be repaired.

She knew it. She’d read of a spell once while she was researching Apparition (she had been very excited by the concept and had taken to pre-studying before training started) which could help rectify trans-dimensional travel, like preventing splinching when you apparate. It was an old spell, very basic magic from the ancient times when that type of magic was first discovered and used. If only she could remember what it was...

As Hermione stood there, still gazing into the depths of the cabinet, she knew that she had the answer. She’d found the answer a long time ago. And now she could fix it. With a quick trip to the library, all of what Malfoy had been almost killing himself over would be done. She couldn’t stop herself from smiling as she closed the door and rushed for the exit of the Room of Requirement. She just had to run back to her dormitory quickly to grab her bag, where she probably had notes on just what book it was exactly that had the answer she sought, then she could go the library and back again and everything would be perfect. As long as she avoided seeing anyone else along the way. Dinner had to be over by now, she’d been mulling over this information for a long time, but the chances of running into Harry and Ron in the Common Room at this hour were slim. Hopefully they were out practicing Quidditch or visiting Hagrid or something.

Considering how things were going for Hermione lately, she really wasn’t that surprised that her plan was exactly going to happen. As she stepped towards the painting of the Fat Lady, she could already hear music and people shouting even though the noise was muffled by the stone walls. The portrait smiled at her as she approached and swung open without even asking for the password, too proud of the house she represented to care.

Hermione had missed the Quidditch final. And it seemed that Gryffindor had won. She couldn’t believe she’d forgotten that that was tonight, but it didn’t seem like she’d been missed. Harry was locked in an embrace with Ginny at the centre of the room and everyone was cheering them on, a few of them heckling. Ron was off to the side, seemingly drunk on happiness as he held up the Cup they’d just earned. He caught her eye and she gave him a quick smile before making her way around the edge of the crowd towards her dorm. It only took her a moment to find her bag and find her way back out of the Common Room, past the mob of careless Gryffindors. It was only when she could no longer hear the sounds of the party echoing through the hall that she realized she’d been followed.

“Where you going?” Ron asked as soon as she turned around to face him. “You’re missing the party!” 

“Not really in the mood for celebrating.” She tried to make herself sound tired, which really didn’t take much effort. “Not feeling all that hot and there’s too many people.”

“Oh,” Ron’s face fell as he searched hers. He was still carrying the comically large Quidditch Cup in his hand. “Well, I could stay with you, if you wanted. Keep you company.”

“Thanks,” Hermione really hoped this wasn’t headed where it seemed like it was. “But you should really be celebrating with your team. It’s your night and it’d be a lot more fun.”

“But,” He took a step forward towards her, “I want to spend it with you. Hermione, I- I-”

He seemed at a loss for words to say. He looked at her, and was looking through her. She could tell that what he saw was the Hermione that he’d spent his first four years at Hogwarts with. The girl he hated at first, then learned to love, and still hated sometimes. But she wasn’t that girl any more, she knew that she was capable of being there for more than just him and Harry. She could do so much more.

And she was no one’s sloppy seconds.

“Ron.” She stated firmly, stepping forward only to push him gently back towards the Common Room. “You should go back. I’m fine without you. Thanks for the offer, but I’m alright.”

Ron’s face fell further into a disappointed scowl, but Hermione didn’t give him a chance to protest. She headed back down the corridor, away from the tower and down the stairs. A few months ago, and she might’ve been dreaming of the moment that just happened. But now she couldn’t get far enough away from it.

It was only once she was in front of the library that Hermione remembered that there actually were closing hours to it. That left her only one other place to go, and it certainly wasn’t back to her dormitory.

Moments later, she was sneaking back into the Hospital Wing. It was just on the tail end of visiting hours so Madame Pomfrey just gave her a withering look as she entered before turning back into her office. Hermione approached Malfoy’s bed slowly and quietly, unsure if he was asleep.

“You could say hello,” His voice sounded rough from lack of use as he turned his head towards her, smiling. “It’s a lot less creepy then watching from afar.”

Hermione grinned back at him, speeding up her pace until she was back in her chair at his bedside. Her next words were bursting out of her at a speed she could control, she was so excited to see his reaction to the news.

“I went to the Room of Requirement instead of going to the Quidditch game today and found the Cabinet and you won’t believe it, I’ve actually read before about a spell that can help realign the track between the pair of Vanishing Cabinets. I just have to go the library once it opens tomorrow and find the book that I’d read it in months ago and then figure out how to cast it and then it should work! Your job will be done!” Once the last of the words were out of her mouth, she finally took another breath, waiting for his reaction.

Malfoy’s mouth was literally hanging open as he stared up at her. Shaking his head slightly, he recovered enough to close it and looked away. His eyes were darting back and forth slightly as he thought over what she’d just said, making sense of it all. He managed to bring himself back up into a sitting position, putting his back and pillow against the wall behind him, before turning back to her.

“I can’t believe it.” 

“Neither can I,” Hermione was relieved to hear that his voice didn’t quite match the words. He was disbelieving, but thankful. Hopeful, even. “But it’s true. There should be a live bird waiting in the cabinet for you once you get out of here. We can do this.”

The ‘we’ was not quite intentional, and despite how much she hoped that he hadn’t caught it, his eyes flicked back up to meet hers as she said it. His expression was in a constant state of flux, torn between the pain that sitting up had caused him (although he seemed to have healed quite significantly in the span of a day), disbelief and thankfulness at the information, and hope for his family. Not just that, but hope for something else as well. And confusion.

Hermione hadn’t even realized that her hand had already found his. They sat there for a few minutes, touching and looking at each other, neither of them daring to move or speak. When she broke the silence, she voiced what she’d been struggling with internally for so long.

“I should hate you.” 

“I know.” Malfoy didn’t even flinch at the statement. He knew the truth of their situation as well as she did. “I thought I hated you.”

“But you don’t.”

“But I don’t.” 

Hermione knew that Malfoy had lied to her in the past. He could be lying at any moment. But he wasn’t now. 

“Why?”

She had to know that she was making the right choice. That here, in this moment, she was doing what was right for her and for everyone. She wasn’t going to leave everything from her past behind for him, but she knew that helping him, finding that spell, would change everything around her for the rest of her life.

She wanted him to give her an explanation that could justify that choice. That could make her believe that now that she was helping him, everything would be okay. His family would be safe and so would hers. A magic solution to the problems they’d faced their entire lives. But he couldn’t do that.

Instead, he leant forward, taking his hand away from hers and placing it on the back of her neck and drawing her toward him. She was so aware of everything now, the faint smell of apples and ointment radiating from him and the way his fingers were twisting their way up into her hair. Before she knew it, they were connected.

His lips were firm against hers, moulding against her mouth, lingering as they tasted each other for the first time. Too soon, he drew back, bringing his hand back with him. His lips were now folded up in that all-too familiar smirk she was used to seeing him wear before this shit-storm, colour returned to his cheeks. The sight confused her, but made her smile back at him all the same.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?!” A voice erupted from behind Hermione, making the pair jump a little from where they were seated. They didn’t have to turn to see who was speaking, Madame Pomfrey was at her elbow and starting to pull her up from her seat. “I let you get away sleeping overnight one time, that’s it. You try that again, you’re going to Dumbledore.”

“You stayed?” Malfoy asked, his smirk lowering into a genuine smile.

“Of course.” Despite the fact that Hermione was now being forcibly removed from the Hospital Wing, her smile was still plastered on her face. 

She allowed herself to be pushed through the door and given a stern look from Pomfrey, she couldn’t care less about being kicked out of somewhere for the first time in her life. Even the threat of the Headmaster being concerned with the matter meant nothing, despite the fact that Dumbledore would read into this as more than a girl staying with a friend. She also didn’t care that he would care. It was stupid, she knew, to let someone have that effect on her, but she couldn’t stop herself from feeling so elated.

Hermione now had to find her way back to the Gryffindor Tower and face the crowd that was surely still awake and celebrating there. She’d have to see Harry, happy with Ginny. And Ron, probably sick with embarrassment. But she knew that she could do it. She could smile sincerely be happy about it. She could put up with their bullshit and genuinely help when she had to. She knew that she could make it, live to see the end, because she knew that she wasn’t all that alone anymore.


	12. Repairs

Life at Hogwarts was definitely at the strangest that it had ever been. That included having once been turned into a cat, being held hostage underwater, and have a dictator for a teacher. 

The morning after that blessed night, when the connection she knew she’d been longing for had finally been made, Hermione’s head was reeling before she even had the chance to open her eyes. In fact, the next week went by in a haze, her head too far up in the clouds for her to find her footing again. The clouds weren’t all white and fluffy, though. Her thoughts ranged from happiness and elation to confusion and guilt. She couldn’t register what she’d gotten herself into. 

She purposefully avoided going to the Hospital Wing after that; on the one hand, to let Malfoy rest and actually heal, and on the other, to delay the inevitable. Figuring out what exactly was going on.

Other people would be able to just go with the flow, let their relationships with people evolve naturally and see what happens. Hermione simply could not do that. Her logical ways of thinking and the reality of the unique situation she was in would prevent her from being able to ‘let it be’. To sit on the fence. But she could delay this decision, for quite a while, as long as no one found out that she had kissed the ‘enemy’.

By the time she’d found her feet back on the ground, Malfoy had been let out of the Hospital Wing. He appeared to be fully healed, but it was easy for anyone to see that he would be carrying himself as an injured man for quite a while still. When he walked, he kept his torso as stiff as possible and was prone to wrapping his arms across his chest, like he was trying to keep everything in. What a lot of people didn’t know as they registered how he moved, but Hermione saw, was that ever since they’d come back from summer he’d been carrying himself this way. It was just that then, everything he was keeping in was in his mind. 

Hermione had no choice but to note all this from as far away as she could. With Malfoy back in the halls, Harry had grown more sullen than ever. Ron never left his side and also had grown darker in his moods, especially since her awkward encounter with him after they’d won the Quidditch Cup. It was horribly depressing to be around them, but she had no choice if she were to keep her charade going. And all this made her miss being with Malfoy even more. 

So, when Malfoy returned back to his regular seat in their Potions class, Hermione found herself unable to take her eyes away from him. Again. She hadn’t known he could be even paler than he had been before, but he’d found a way. She couldn’t take it. After ripping off a piece of parchment and scribbling something in ink, she sat in her seat and impatiently waited for the class to end.

Slughorn took his sweet time explaining the purpose of one specific ingredient in one specific potion, lost in his own words because he was so oddly passionate about the subject. It was only when he took a pause for breath that he noticed the time and dismissed the class with a wave of his hand and a “See you Thursday”.

The wretched screeching of stools being pushed back against the stone floor filled the room as the students stood up, eager to leave. This caused a crowd to form by the door as her classmates were forced to filter through two at a time, a beautiful distraction for what she was about to do.

Having not bothered to take any of her supplies out of her bag, Hermione made it to the opposite side of the room in record time, before Harry or Ron had even capped their ink bottles. She found the blonde boy she’d kept her sights on and brushed her shoulder against his. He looked down to see who’d bumped into him and smiled quickly as recognition spread across his face. The look was gone as soon as it came, though, as he turned his head away to see if anyone had seen the touch.

This was okay with her, she was completely unnerved by the interaction as she made her way out into the dungeon halls. She knew this was how it had to be out here. And she’d done what she’d set out to do. 

...

“You should really consider a career as a pickpocket,” the familiar voice called out from the bowels of the room Hermione had just entered, closing the door as quietly as she could behind her.

Draco emerged from behind an odd stack of furniture, holding the parchment between his index finger and his thumb in front of himself. 

Her lips spread into a wide grin as she saw him stick the note back into his pocket before striding towards her. 

“I took a chance, you know,” Hermione stated, placing her hand on her bag beside her. “I wasn’t even sure you could still read after what happened. And I couldn’t let that top-secret message fall into the wrong hands.”

“Top secret?” The boy let out a small laugh as he stopped a few feet from her, crossing his arms against his chest and leaning one shoulder on the sturdy bookshelf beside him. “What is this, a confidential Auror investigation?”

“I was thinking more F.B.I., personally.” She started to laugh herself but stopped when she saw the confusion on his face. Right. Problem word. “Federal Bureau of Investigation? It’s like... the American Muggle Aurors.”

“I see,” Draco said. It was obvious, though. He didn’t. There was a comfortable quiet between them, with Hermione only slightly embarrassed about referencing something he didn’t understand. He didn’t seem to notice the small flush in her cheeks as his own expression changed when his eyes drifted down to her side. “Did you bring what you said you’d bring?”

“Of course,” Hermione took her hand from on her bag and thrust it inside, drawing out the leather bound book she’d grabbed from the library days before. “I told you, I keep my promises.”

He nodded, reaching one pale hand out to take it from her. Quickly, she drew the book up to her chest, hugging it with both arms. He looked back up at her quizzically. 

“I hope you can understand,” She said slowly, keeping solid eye contact with him, “Why I would want to do this myself.”

“Right,” He dropped his hand as quickly as he’d raised it. Clearing his throat, he gestured towards the Vanishing Cabinet that stood a few meters down the room from them. 

They walked together towards the wardrobe, only inches apart. Now wasn’t the time, she knew, to bring up what they needed to talk about eventually. But knowing that didn’t make being around him and keeping her hands to herself any easier. When they came to a stop in front of it, Hermione opened the book in her hand to the page she’d marked earlier, all business now.

“Could you clear the area around the Cabinet?” She asked without looking up to see his response. He would, of course, and he did. She kept her eyes on the page in front of her, still taking in the words in a language she was just becoming familiar with. 

Plopping herself down on the ground, she sat with her legs crossed and put the book on the floor in front of her. Rummaging through her bag, she took out the notes she’d made earlier that week, translations and possible interpretations, and spread them out beside the book. After giving them a once over, trying to make sure she wasn’t going to make a mistake in what she was about to do, she stood up again and withdrew her wand from her pocket. 

She felt Malfoy’s eyes on her as she held the stick of wood out in front of her, holding it lightly in her fingers, and started to circle the Vanishing Cabinet. His gaze was distracting and she couldn’t spare any of her attention, so she stopped and turned to face him again.

“Look, this might take a while and I kind of need to focus. Could you, maybe, uhm...” Hermione didn’t know how to put this nicely.

“Leave?” He looked at her incredulously. “No way, you know what this means to me.”

“Okay,” She had to give him that. “Well, then, could you at least sit down somewhere and not breathe too loud?”

Malfoy began shaking his head slightly while letting his expression relax into one of amusement. He grabbed the chair that he’d been sitting in over a week ago and lowered himself slowly, maintaining eye contact with her the entire time. He grabbed a book at random from the shelf behind him and held it up with a questioning look that asked “Is this good enough for you?”

She nodded, rolling her eyes and smiling before turning back to the job at hand. She could still hear pages being turned, and admittedly he did actually breathe kind of loudly, but she felt much less self conscious. 

Resuming her stance, Hermione began circling the Cabinet again, this time using everything she had to cast the spell she’d found. She could feel the ancient words escaping her lips confidently, despite the harsh sounds they were made of and how foreign they sounded to her ears. She made three full revolutions when she noticed that the pages had stopped being turned and could feel his gaze on her again. This time, she’d have to deal with it. She knew what she was doing. Mostly.

Standing back at the doors of the Cabinet, she started outlining a five pointed star in the air. As she drew out the syllables of the spell, a light blue line appeared to be following every move her wand was making until a star really was floating in front of her. Flicking her wand, the image rushed at the Cabinet, disappearing through the doors. As soon as the star vanished through the wood, a pain struck her; passing through one temple to the other, causing her to drop her wand as she threw her palms to her forehead. 

Shaking her head as the pain left as quickly as it had come, she left her wand where it was and reached forward, yanking open the doors of the Cabinet to make sure it had worked. There it was, a star seared into the back panel of the Cabinet like it should always have been. 

Dusting off her hands, she turned towards the only member in her audience and curtsied, pulling out on the sides of her skirt as she did it. When she straightened again, after picking up her wand and tucking it into her pocket, she expected to see nothing but thankfulness and joy on Malfoy’s face. All she saw was a boy with his mouth gaping open, staring at her. 

“That’s it?” He asked, shocked.

“That’s it,” She confirmed, smiling at him. He still wasn’t smiling back at her. “I mean, it was a lot more complicated than I made it look. And it’ll take a while for it to take affect.”

“What do you mean?” He stood up and strode past her, looking into the Cabinet.

“I mean,” She started to explain this slowly, unsure of exactly how to word the concept. “It takes time. Literally. Imagine the place of nothingness that exists between the places. It’s a different dimension, right? Well, the tunnel, I guess you could call it, between these two places that runs through that dimension, was offline. It was crooked. And in that dimension, time is different. And space. It’s a whole other world that shouldn’t exist but does. Those differences are what caused the bird to come back dead. It was in a vacuum. So, what I’m saying is that what I’ve done is starting to build the tunnel back the way it was. But considering that there’s so much unknown about this kind of magic, there’s no way to tell exactly when it will be finished. My guess is, considering how difficult it actually felt to me, it should be ready within the next fortnight.”

Malfoy just stood in front of her, trying to take in everything she just said. She could understand if he didn’t quite comprehend, she didn’t get most of it herself either, all that mattered was that it worked. Alas, some of it must have gotten through to him, some little shred of understanding, because his face lit up brighter than she’d ever seen it before. 

And then she couldn’t see his face at all, because it was buried in her neck as his arms wrapped around her in what had to be the biggest, most genuine hug she’d ever received. She felt her feet lift off the floor as he picked her up to his height and couldn’t help but laugh, placing her own arms around his waist neck and squeezing tight. 

The embrace ended when he set her back on the ground, pulling his arms back from her waist, his face still ecstatic. But when he turned back to the cabinet to marvel at the victory, he pointed to the marks she’d placed on the wood and spoke in a deep voice that still sounded questioning.

“What’s that, then?”

“Ever heard of astrology?”

“Is it like astronomy?”

“Sort of,” She stared at the star burnt in the panel. “For hundreds of years, far in the past, humans used to believe that the stars in the sky were actually magic. They could tell the future and what not. Before, you know, we existed. Hell, we might have believed in it too, considering the sparks that fly from our wands sometimes. The stars are one of the most ancient sources of magic, you could say. So, when this particular spell was cultivated, the star was the most representative thing that came from it; encompassing all the aspects of time and space and magic that’s involved in this method of travel.”

She almost felt bad, having to explain so much to Malfoy. Even she was getting tired of her own voice doing nothing but providing exposition for the situation. But it didn’t seem to phase him, because he was facing her again and taking her hands into his. She could feel the roughness of his skin, the calloused knuckles and strong grip that she’d been getting used to that time they’d spent together in the Hospital Wing. They stood there for a moment before she remembered one last thing she’d brought with her. Regretfully, she took her hands back and pulled out a small coin purse from her bag.

“Oh,” Malfoy’s brow furrowed as he heard the clinking from in the bag and thrust his hands back into his pockets. “I didn’t know you wanted.. I mean, uhm, how much?”

He brought his hands back out, one now full of what spare change he kept on his person, and began sorting through the coins with the other.

“You idiot,” Hermione smiled at him, “I don’t want your money. This wasn’t a job for me. I just wanted to show you these.”

She emptied the purse out onto the palm of her hand, showing only two Galleons that were glinting dully in the dusty light of the room. Putting one into Malfoy’s free hand, she held the other up, pinching it between her index finger and thumb. She still had a little more explaining to do.

“This isn’t really money,” She began, flipping the coin between her fingers. “We used these last year, to communicate between members of the D.A. Each of us had a coin and they were all linked to mine, so I could signal when the next meeting would be. These two are only linked to each other, though, so we can figure out times to meet here without risking someone finding a note or seeing us talk together.”

“You...’’ Malfoy’s face was almost exasperated as he stared between her and the coins in both of their hands. He slipped the rest of his change back into his pocket and turned the remaining Galleon over on his palm. “You are a bloody genius. I used to despise you for it, but damn, does it come in handy.”

Hermione smiled, trying not to let the compliment go to her head. She was used to it, being the smartest person around, but it felt different coming from him. Like his eyes had finally been fully opened to see how there was more to her than the colour of her blood. 

“How does it work, exactly?” He asked.

“Well, mine isn’t the master coin anymore, so either of us could signal to the other when they wanted to meet. But what you do is point your wand at the serial number, right there along the edge, you see? When you do that, you can change them to a certain date, and the numbers on the right will indicate the time. The other one will know that someone wants to meet because the Galleon will heat up when the numbers change. So, as long as you don’t lose it or let anyone else hold it when it could be changed, it’s the perfect plan.” She tucked the coin back into her purse and slipped it back into her own pocket. 

She watched as Malfoy brought his wand out of his pocket and pointed it at the coin in his hand, an expression of concentration settling across his features. She almost laughed as his tongue started to poke out from between his teeth when she felt her pocket beginning to sear against her side. Pulling the purse back out, she watched as the inscription on the gold metal changed and read the numbers that were facing her now. 

“This is,” She glanced at the watch that ticked on her wrist, and then back at the boy in front of her who was now looking at her smugly. “This is set for right now.”

“Exactly,” He came towards her like he was going to embrace her again, slipping his coin and wand back into his pocket as he closed the space between them. But instead of snaking his arms around her waist, both of his hands came to rest on her cheeks as he pulled her face towards his.

This kiss felt so much better than the last. They were both healthy, for the most part, and they were on the same level. Well, as much as they could be. Hermione had to lean up on her toes to keep him from bending too far down, but it felt like they fit together anyway. His hands left her face and made their way to the small of her back, his fingers spreading out to help support her as she was stretching herself to keep their faces together. Her own arms found themselves back around his neck, her hands stroking his pale hair. And this time, there was no reeking smell of ointment or threat of being found by an angry caretaker. They were utterly free in this room alone. 

This freedom meant that they could take their time; searching each other at their own pace. There was no rush as their lips melded together, pushing and pulling and only making the lightest whispers of sound with each touch. Even as their breath quickened and their mouths opened, they took their time to savour every moment. She could feel her face starting to flush to match the colour of her occupied mouth, the heat between them becoming palpable. Her fingers curled, clinging to the back of his head to keep him close. He applied the same pressure to her back, keeping their chests as pressed together as they could be, like he was trying to bring them together into one being. She never wanted this to end. 

But it did. Malfoy let out a small moan, the sound of which initially excited her, and drew his hands away from around her as he pried himself away from the embrace. She realized it had actually been a noise of pain as he started to lightly probe his side with his fingers, wincing.

“Are you okay?” She asked. Her lips felt almost numb, she wasn’t sure how she managed to speak.

“Yeah,” He nodded as he straightened up, still favouring his torso. “Still healing, I guess.”

“Of course,” Her tongue felt foreign inside her own mouth now. She shook her head and cleared her throat, trying to regain composure. “Too much physical activity could aggravate it. Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Malfoy’s lips were startlingly red against the rest of his face as he smiled at her. He was still pale, but there was life behind the skin. His smile turned into his all-too familiar smirk as he spoke again. “It just means we’ll have to wait.”

“Oh,” Hermione could feel her already blushing face turn into a deeper shade of scarlet. She knew that she’d have to think about that eventually, but when you’re best friends with the Boy Who Lived, you tend to have different priorities. She straightened her bag and started towards the door of the Room of Requirement. “Right, well, uhm, you know how to contact me. I should get back to my dorm.”

Her response just made his smile grow wider and a small laugh to erupt from his throat. He waved and turned back to face the Vanishing Cabinet they’d all but forgotten in the last few minutes.

“I never said,” He turned his face back to her, his body still facing the Cabinet. “Thank you. Really.”

“Don’t make me regret it,” She joked as she placed her hand on the handle of the door and pushed it open. As she stepped out into the hall, facing the tapestry she seemed to be quite will acquainted with now, she realized she wasn’t entirely sure how much of her last statement was actually a joke.


	13. Fixed

Stolen glances. Hidden touches. She’d finally found a balance.

Over the course of the next month, Hermione had perfected her double life. She was comfortable being there for her friends, helping Harry with his homework and dealing with Snape. Ron was a whole other awkward story, but so long as she avoided any alone time with him, they managed. 

And then her life would turn upside down as soon as her pocket began to burn against her hip. Her excuses were at least somewhat believable, and she made her way back to the Room of Requirement without any trouble every time. And then she’d be free. 

In that Room, with Draco (whom she didn’t even notice she’d begun thinking of him as), she felt everything fall away for those precious few moments. Sometimes she’d enter and throw herself against him, wasting no time to close the space between them. Other times, however, they barely touched.

Like this time, Hermione sat with her back against the wall, her legs out in front of her, and Draco lay with his head in her lap. They weren’t even looking at each other, but as she stroked his pale hair lightly with her fingers, she felt closer to him than she had to any other person before.

“I never knew,” She said as she twirled a piece of his hair, looking down in time to see him closing his eyes, lost in thought.

“Surprisingly, there’s actually a lot you don’t know,” He smirked, his eyes still shut.

“Oi,” She dropped his hair and swatted lightly at his forehead. “You can’t blame me for not exactly thinking of your tragic past while you were a jerk to me and my friends.”

“Well then, you can’t blame me for being raised to be a jerk to people for something they can’t help,” He opened his eyes and looked up at her for the first time since they’d sat down like this. His cool gaze sought hers apologetically, dropping all hints of humour.

“Draco,” Hermione placed her hand against his cool cheek as she contemplated what she was about to say, “You know I can’t just forgive you for everything you did in the past, right? It doesn’t change how I feel now, but I am starting to understand why you did what you did.”

He raised his own hand and put it on top of hers, squeezing her fingers tightly. He nodded slightly, searching her eyes for a moment before dropping his gaze.

“You are sorry now, though, aren’t you?” She need to know.

“Of course!” He held her hand even tighter. “I just, you know, wish I could go back. Undo some of the things I did.”

“Not all of the things?”

“Well, Potter isn’t exactly the perfect prince either, you know.”

“Well,” She thought back on their previous years, the interactions that she’d only viewed from one side before. “Yeah. He could be a bit of a jerk too, I guess.”

They sat in silence for a moment. His thumb started to stroke her hand which still lay against his face. She brought up her left hand from her side and resumed playing with his hair, enjoying the silky feeling of it against her finger tips. 

“If only my father knew that I was dating a-” Draco flicked his eyes up towards Hermione before choosing his words carefully, “Muggleborn.”

“He might just disown you,” Hermione attempted to say it in a joking manner, knowing full well that it was a real possibility at this point. “But your mum, she doesn’t sound like she’d mind too much. Sounds like she just wants you to be happy.”

“Probably,” Draco dropped his hand from hers and pushed himself up from the ground so he was sitting facing her. Her own hands fell into her lap as their playthings were taken from them, and they sat looking at each other for a moment.

“What happens,” She began, voicing what she knew they were both avoiding “When something happens? When Harry and Voldemort...”

She was only slightly disappointed when he didn’t respond. He just kept looking at her with that sad look in his eyes. His silence told her the answer, the answer that she would have given if he’d asked. They didn’t know. 

Instead, he leaned forward and brought one of his hands up to touch her cheek, brushing his lips against hers for a brief moment. They sat there, breathing each other in and barely touching for what felt like a lifetime squished into a few seconds before he pulled back away, rolling back onto his haunches. 

“I should go,” He cleared his throat, standing and turning away. 

“Okay,” Hermione used the wall behind her to steady herself as she stood as well, pulling her bag up along with her.

“I’m sorry,” He grabbed his bag and was at the door in a few steps, his hand on the handle. “I really am.”

“It seems like that’s all we ever are,” She smiled, walking up to him and shrugging her bag onto her shoulder.

He returned the grin, leaning forward again and kissing her quickly on the cheek before twisting the handle and stepping out into the hall, closing the door behind himself.

As an extra precaution, they always left the Room within a few minutes of each other. So as she waited the allotted time it would take to throw off any suspicion, Hermione found herself striding to the Vanishing Cabinet that still sat collecting dust a few feet away. As she rested a hand against the door, she could tell that it wasn’t finished yet. There was something still just a little bit off, it vibrated through the wood. But it was closer, humming with the potential it held. Soon, it would finished healing itself, she knew it. Very soon.

It was probably safe now, and she was out of the Room in a few seconds. Giving that old tapestry a once over, she strode down the hall deep in thought about the future and what it might bring. She’d made one choice, but there were still more to make. Everything was uncertain now; not that she’d really thought of having a stable future before. 

“Hermione?” The name echoed through the hall from behind her, tearing her out of her own head and stopping her in her tracks. The voice was lower than the one she’d just been listening to; gruffer and confused. Turning around on the balls of her feet, Hermione was greeted with the redhead she’d been trying so desperately to avoid.

“Oh, Ron, hey!” She let each word out on a separate breath, attempting to compose herself.

“What’re you doing here?” He asked, staring intently at her.

“Me?” She looked around the hallway, searching for an excuse to be on the seventh floor. Spotting a pair of columns much further down the hall that marked the splitting of another corridor, she was reminded of when she had to wait there for a date. A horrible date, just a few months earlier. “I just thought I’d pop by Slughorn’s office! I didn’t manage to finish my Sleeping Draught on time and wanted to see if I could get an extension, but he wasn’t there.” 

“I see,” Ron nodded, looking around her to see what she’d been referencing. His eyes had a glazed look to them, like his own mind was somewhere far away, which made sense when he opened his mouth and changed the subject. “Anyway, I was wondering if we could talk?”

So, this was it.

“Ron, look...” She began, not able to meet his eyes.

“No, Hermione, listen.” His tone was firm as he tried to force eye contact. When she wouldn’t oblige, he laid a hand on her shoulder. She flinched slightly at the touch but didn’t pull away, if only out of respect for their friendship. He took it as a good enough sign to continue. “About what happened after the Quidditch Cup... I didn’t really mean it.”

“What?” Hermione was confused enough that her gaze flicked up to meet his. 

“It was, well, the hype,” He said, shrugging a little too nonchalantly. “Seeing Harry and Ginny made me kind of jealous, considering I’d just broken up with Lavender, and I was lonely.”

“Oh,” She stated, finally stepping back so his hand fell back to his side. “So, I was just there? Is that it?”

“Well,” Ron pulled his hand back up to his chest and crossed his arms in a fluid motion. It was his turn to avoid eye contact. “Yeah. Sorry.”

Hermione could feel her cheeks starting to burn red as she glared at the boy in front of her. To think, she’d been so happy (if only slightly confused) just a few moments before. And now she had to deal with this boy once and for all.

“It’s the Yule Ball all over again, is it?” She could hear the steely edge in her voice, and felt proud of herself. “No one else would go with you, so I’m all that’s left? You know what, I don’t believe it for a second. Just like then, if you’d asked me earlier, I probably would have said yes. But you waited too long and frankly, I’m done. Done with the rudeness and confusion and ‘what-ifs’. Ron, I won’t always be there for you. I’ll be your friend but nothing more than that. Ever.”

She watched as the words dug into him, every pause she took striking him like a spear. It was scary the pleasure she got from seeing his face turn pale and his expression weaken.

“You’ve hurt me countless times and never once apologized. The jokes, the jabs, the ridiculing... I’m a person too, you know? Not just some girl who will come at your every beck and call, doing your homework and taking the brunt of your frustration. I’ve had enough.”

“Hermione, I...” Ron was still staring at her, his eyes darting back and forth as he studied her face, looking for the girl who wasn’t there any more. His mouth was slack with exasperation as he struggled to find words. “I don’t know what to say.”

She let out a low breath that came out as a sigh as she felt her expression soften. This time, she put her hand on his shoulder, making sure that he was looking directly at her, as the girl she was now.

“You could have said sorry,” She let her hand drop and stood for a moment as the words sank in. Before he could respond, though, she brushed past him and headed for the stairs at the end of the corridor. Standing at the top of them, her palm resting against the cool stone of the handrail, she turned her face back to him where he still stood, unmoving. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

...

After that encounter, everything was as normal as it could possibly be. Harry didn’t seem to notice anything different between his two best friends, which was exactly the way the two of them wanted things. It seemed as if Ron agreed to just pretend the last few weeks had never happened. They were friends, like they had been for years before, with nothing between them. Everything was finally peaceful, to an extent.

“Anything more on Malfoy?” Hermione asked as she scooped another spoonful of corn onto her plate. She’d learnt that while she shouldn’t prod too hard at the subject, simply asking about Harry’s obsession was enough to satiate him.

“I haven’t heard from Dobby in a while, and still haven’t managed to get into the Room of Requirement. I might try again tonight after my meeting with Dumbledore, depending on how long that takes.” Harry was shoveling his own dinner into his mouth. Having spent the last couple of hours catching up on some of the homework he was so desperately behind on, he’d lost track of time and only had a few minutes with her and Ron before heading for the Headmaster’s office.

“I reckon he’s just using the Room to hook up with Pansy or something.” Ron was also shoving food into his mouth at a fast pace, probably so he’d be finished at the same time as Harry and wouldn’t have to be alone with Hermione. “We all know he isn’t capable of much, and I wouldn’t put it past him to use that place for something like, you know, that.”

Hermione could feel her cheeks starting to burn again, this time from embarrassment, and ducked her head behind her hair as she chewed on her corn. She couldn’t bear to let either of them see her react like this, especially since she really wasn’t supposed to have reason to. But hearing her situation, which was shockingly close to what Ron was suggesting, said in such a crude manner made her feel ashamed and uncomfortable. She wasn’t just a hook up in a broom closet, though. At least, that’s what she hoped.

“You okay?” Harry asked, pushing forward his clean plate and staring intently at Hermione. Her reaction hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“Oh, yes, I just...” She couldn’t think of an excuse for her the red on her cheeks.

“Aw, no need to be such a prude,” Ron said in the nicest way that was possible for the moment. “Everybody knows what goes on behind these walls.”

“I was just shocked to hear it said that way, about Malfoy, is all.” Hermione rested her fork on her own plate and turned to Harry, eager to move on. “Shouldn’t you be going? Wouldn’t want to leave Dumbledore waiting.”

“Of course,” Harry threw his legs over the bench and stood. “I’ll meet up with you guys as soon as I can, alright? In the Common Room?”

“Sounds good,” She smiled to him and nodded, prompting him to wave at the pair before rushing out of the Great Hall.

“You down for a round of wizard’s chess?” Ron asked, swinging his own legs as he prepared to leave.

“Thanks, but I’ve got quite a lot of work to do, end of the year approaching and such. I should think you’d want to do the same, considering that last mark you got back in Potions.”

“Well, thanks,” He said sarcastically. “Could you at least help me then?”

“I would, but-” Her sentence was cut off as a sudden burst of heat seared through the pocket of her robes against her leg. She shook off the feeling as it left as soon as it came. “Sorry, brain freeze. Uhm, I’ve got more Transfiguration and Arithmancy to do in the library before I get to Potions. I’ll meet up with you and Harry in the Common Room later though, yeah?”

“Yeah, see you then,” Ron stood and skulked off, obviously not too thrilled at the prospect of spending the evening alone actually doing work.

It took Hermione a few minutes to make sure she got back to the Room of Requirement unnoticed. When she arrived, she threw open the door and rushed inside, only pausing to make sure the door didn’t make too much noise while being shut.

“Twice in one day? Someone might end up getting the wrong idea if we start meeting this frequently,” She attempted a joke as she approached the figure who stood in front of the Cabinet, back facing her. She got no response. “Draco? Is everything alright?”

He was still quiet as he turned to face her, his expression telling her everything she needed to hear. His eyes were brimming with tears but his mouth was holding a tight smile; it was a wonder he was holding himself together.

It was finished.

She closed the space between the two of them, throwing her arms around him and pulling him in for an embrace. It only lasted a moment as she heard a thumping from within the Vanishing Cabinet. She withdrew, looking up at him.

“Will you do the honours?” She prompted, motioning towards the door.

Malfoy nodded, breathing deeply as he stretched his arm out in front of himself and grabbed the latch of the door. His hand rested there for a second, the tension cracking with every moment spent waiting, until he pushed down his thumb and wrenched the Cabinet open.

As soon as they could see inside, a white blur brushed past and flew up into the air. Hermione grabbed at Draco’s free hand, as the other still rested on the door, interlocking her fingers through his and watched as the dove that had emerged glided above them, stretching it’s wing and letting out a faint whistle. It seemed like Draco was frozen for the moment, his eyes locked on the bird, barely registering her presence beside him. With her left hand, she placed her palm against his cheek and lightly pulled his gaze down towards her.

“You did it,” She smiled and used her thumb to wipe away the single tear that had managed to break free from his eye. Then, unable to contain herself, she brought his face down towards hers for a kiss.

This seemed to wake him up again as he brought his hand from the Cabinet to grab the back of her head, pressing their mouths together. He then brought his face back, only for a moment, before peppering the rest of her face with little kisses.

“No, we did it,” His lips spread into a grin that rivaled the one he’d given her when she first performed the spell.

“C’mon!” She started to step back towards the door of the Room, holding her grip on his hand to lead him outside. “We need to celebrate this somehow!”

She could feel his reaction before he said anything, his fingers tightening quickly before letting go of her hand and staying behind. 

“What is it?” Hermione asked, trying the register the look that had found it’s home on his face.

“Nothing, I just...” He looked back to the Cabinet which still gaped open. “I need a minute. This means so much... to me... my family.”

“Of course,” She nodded, ashamed that she hadn’t taken into account the seriousness of it all. It deserved celebration, but not the kind she’d first thought of. This was a kind of solemn thankfulness. 

They stood there for a second, both looking at the Cabinet again, before Hermione remembered her promise to her friends.

“Listen, Draco,” She began, resting a hand on his shoulder, “Do you want a minute alone? I forgot I said I’d meet Harry and Ron in the Common Room, but I don’t think that’ll take too long. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Okay,” He bent down and rested his lips on her forehead lightly, “I’ll be here. This isn’t finished yet.”

Hermione wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, but knew that no matter what they did, nothing would ever be over. So, squeezing his hand one more time, she left quietly and made her way into the hall.

She’d walked this way so many times before, but now felt so different. She’d accomplished something, something that should have been impossible. But she did it. She’d fixed one broken thing; maybe it wasn’t too late to try and help fix another.

The only person she passed on her way back to Gryffindor Tower was Professor Trewlaney, who looked suspiciously paranoid as she carried a bag that made loud clinking noises with every step she took. Within minutes, consumed by elation, she was in the Gryffindor Common Room in front of two very anxious looking boys.

“Where have you been?” Harry demanded, his tone rushed.

“The library, I told Ron that before!” She defended herself, unsure of why he was distracted and harsh.

“Okay, well, I’m supposed to be downstairs in two minutes and have direct orders not to tell anyone anything, but obviously I’m telling you guys anyway. Dumbledore knows where one of the Horcruxes is and he’s taking me with him. Now, I’m not sure what’s gonna happen exactly, but just in case, take this.” He withdrew something from the bunch up cloak in his hand and then shoved it into Hermione’s hand. Turning it over, she recognized it instantly: the half empty bottle of Felix Felicis. “If anything happens, you guys share that with Ginny. A couple hours of good luck never hurt anyone.”

“Harry, are you sure you’re okay?” Hermione asked, worried now. Her hand was trembling slightly as she gripped the bottle tightly.

“For now, yeah.” He nodded grimly, looking between her and Ron. “See you on the other side.” 

Harry drew them in for a quick hug together before walking out through the painting, not looking back once. Hermione and Ron turned to look at each other, wearing identical expressions of confusion and worry.

“I suggest we stay in tonight, then.” Ron said finally.

“Yeah,” She hated to agree. Thrusting her free hand into her pocket, she slid the communication Galleon between her fingers, unsure of what to do. “Besides, he’s with Dumbledore. What’s the worst that could happen?”


	14. Broken

Apparently, the worst that could happen was already happening.

Hermione was standing with her back agains the wall, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath before turning a corner. Her wand was threatening to drop to the stone floor from between her sweaty fingers, causing her to grip it so tightly her nails began digging into her palm. 

“Where are they all coming from?” Ron yelled to her despite being at her side; the sounds of destruction around them overpowering anything noise less than a scream.

“I-“ Hermione attempted to say that she didn't know, but the words wouldn’t pass her lips. She licked them in an effort to hide her hesitation, tasting the luck potion they’d just downed moments before. The Felix Felicis didn't stop them from being attacked, but the spells aimed at them seemed to just miss them every time they came too close to hitting their target. But given how little they’d each managed to swallow, they couldn’t know how long their luck would last. 

Shaking her head, she thrust her free hand into her pocket. The Galleon was still resting in it, cool as glass as her fingers slid around it. She’d tried to signal Draco, to illicit some sort of response that would reassure her that this wasn’t her fault, but there was nothing coming from the other end. Nothing to fill the deepening pit in her stomach.

“It doesn’t matter. They’re here and Dumbledore isn’t so we have to try our best to do what we can… to survive.” Her words came out much stronger than she felt, but Ron seemed to take comfort in them as his own chest swelled. With that, he rounded the corner before her, wand extended, and took in the scene ahead of them. Hermione followed in a similar stance, coming to a stop beside him.

The Great Hall was in the worst state they’d ever seen it in. Deflected spells brought chunks of rock crashing down to the polished floor, covering the shiny surface in a layer of dust that was coming up in a clouds as witches and wizards seemed to dance through it. There was nothing artful about their actions, however, as their arms whipped back in frantic patterns to cast spell after spell, curse after curse. 

The Order seemed to have arrived quickly after the attack began, but the ground was still littered with bodies, dead or unconscious, that people had to jump over as they fought. It was almost a blessing in some cases, as Hermione watched Tonks trip and fall over another fallen witch, narrowly missing a flash of green that had just been hurled her way. 

Hermione allowed herself to take in the scene for only a moment before jumping into the main action, trying to immobilize anyone she didn’t recognize from the school or the Order. This time Ron followed her, watching her back and yelling out any curses he could remember. The teenage drama that had drove a wedge between them recently took a backseat as they fought for their lives and the lives of their friends.

Friends like Lavender Brown, who appeared to be one of the bodies on the floor though her chest still moved. Or Neville, who was obviously trying to be brave as he weeded his way through the people around him, wand clutched tightly against his chest. And friends like Harry, who still wasn’t back but desperately needed to be there.

“How in the bloody hell did these bastards get in?” Tonks had regained her footing and was at Hermione’s side, face shining as lips curled back into a snarl.

“No idea.” Hermione’s teeth clenched together after letting the words out, still trying not to let her worst fears take form in her mind. “How did you get in? Could they have gotten in the same way?”

“Nope. We came through the front door, the Apparition block is still holding strong and they were already here. They must have found a way to get straight into the castle.” 

“Oh,” Hermione couldn’t give any more of a response as she was distracted trying to block some manner of curse that was headed towards the pair of them from an unknown source. That was the most difficult part, defending yourself against someone you can’t see or discern from anyone else. Especially when the one who had had her back, Ron, seemed to have disappeared into the dust.

“Where the hell is Dumbledore?” Tonks didn’t seem to find Hermione's lack of proper reaction troubling as she herself was struggling to find a way to keep her surroundings in order.

“On some kind of mission thing with Harry. Super secretive.” She threw out an Immobulus charm.

“Could it have anything to do with this attack?” Tonks blocked a bright blue hex.

She thought for a moment, using only half her attention as she kept an eye out for a wayward curse. If this had to do with Draco, if there was more to his plan than he’d let on, then she may have just led him straight to the perfect ending. After Harry had left, she’d changed the coin so all numbers read ‘0’, meaning a cancellation. And he’d known that she was meeting Harry. That preoccupation might’ve been exactly what the Death Eaters needed in order to attack. 

It was too much. 

Turning, without a word to Tonks, she left the Great Hall and headed down the corridor. Her feet smacked against the stone but this time she couldn’t hear the thwacking resounding through the hall. Dodging curses and ducking between people she made it up the stairs. One set, two sets, three sets; up and up until she was on the seventh floor. 

The door to the Room of Requirement was wide open, the tapestry across from it hanging off of one side of the pole like someone had tried to rip it down. Hermione could feel any colour that was left in her face drain away, as she approached the door. 

The Room was empty, whomever had been here was long gone. But as she stepped inside, everything came together to form the harsh reality. The Vanishing Cabinet stood with it’s doors wide open. The dove she and Draco had watched float around the room earlier that day was dead on the floor in front of it, trampled to death. 

It was her fault. She’d been blinded by the story of the lonely boy and had directly caused the all the hurt and pain been ravaged downstairs. She could feel the tears starting to form in her eyes but made no effort to do anything about them. 

Instead, she picked up the closest thing her hands could find; a broomstick leaning up against the bookshelf. Holding it by it’s staff, she ran forward until she was in front of the Cabinet and used all of the force she could muster to strike it with the stick. The already splintered wood started to fracture as she hit it again and again. The tears spilt over onto her now red cheeks but she didn’t care. All that mattered was the destruction of this horrible, horrible thing.

Stepping back, Hermione dropped the broomstick to the floor and admired her handiwork. All that research, the concentration and effort it took to repair the Vanishing Cabinet, had culminated to what was now a pile of useless wood. It would never transfer another living soul again, she was sure of it. 

“Bloody ‘ell,” a deep voice echoed incredulously from behind her. 

Ron came up beside her, evidently surprised and confused by the scene in front of him. She stared back at him and his dishevelled appearance. His cheek was bleeding, as if hit by a stray piece of rubble. The potion must have started to wear off.

“What did you do that for?” He finally asked, keeping his space as he continued to take in the view, this time roving from the wetness of her face and the broomstick on the floor at her feet.

“It’s how they got in.” She replied grimly.

“Wait, what?” Ron closed the space between them, looking down at her incredulously. “How would you know that?”

Hermione refused to meet his eyes and instead fell to the floor, letting her hands knot themselves in her hair as she brought her knees up to her face. After taking a few shaky breaths, she made a decision.

“I have something I need to tell you.”

…

He could feel the Galleon warming in his pocket more and more frequently as more screams and crashes filled the air of the castle. He wanted so desperately to take it out and respond, but knew that it was just a matter of time before she figured out what he’d done. And then his pocket would be as cold as he felt inside; that haunting coolness chilled him to the bones as he climbed the steps of the Astronomy Tower. Everything felt wrong, even his own wand felt foreign in his fingers having just cast the Dark Mark merely moments ago. Every instinct of his was screaming at him to turn back, to run and never look back.

It was too late now. Draco had a mission to complete. He couldn’t stop here, he had to finish the job or else the Malfoy line was going to end with him. 

It was the thought of his mother that pushed that of Hermione, and a life away from all of this, out of his mind now. It didn’t take too much of his imagination to picture what the Dark Lord would do to her if he failed. He couldn't let that happen. There was too much at stake, too much to loose. And so he started to run up the final few steps, creating enough force to burst open the door and iron rung with a single push. 

“Expelliarmus!” He yelled, his wand already ahead of him as he saw the white haired figure leaning against the ramparts. Dumbledore’s wand hit the ground with a clatter. 

“Good evening, Draco.” The old wizard spoke in a calm voice. It was infuriating. Of course the old man had to make this so much harder.

“Who else is here?” Draco’s eyes spotted two broomsticks on the floor between them. 

“A question I might ask you. Or are you acting alone?”

Draco brought his eyes back up to meet Dumbledore’s. It was unnerving just how ancient he looked in the greenish glare of the Dark Mark. Then again, that might make what he had to do just a little bit easier.

“No. I’ve got back-up. There are Death Eaters here in your school tonight.” 

“Well, well,” Dumbledore said in what had to be the most condescending voice Draco thought he’d ever heard. “Very good indeed. You found a way to let them in, did you?”

“Yeah,” He felt his breath quickening as he kept up his bravado. “Right under your nose and you never realized!”

“Ingenious. Yet…forgive me… where are they now? You seem unsupported.”

“They met some of your guard. They’re having a fight down below. They won’t be long… I came on ahead. I-I’ve got a job to do.”

“Well, then, you must get on and do it, my dear boy.” Dumbledore said softly.

Draco couldn’t respond. If there was anything he was expecting from this night that he’d dreamed of for so long, had long to get over with, this wasn’t it. He could do nothing but stare at his Headmaster. The man in front of him, who knew what Draco was supposed to do, simply smiled.

“Draco, Draco, you are not a killer.”

“How do you know?” He replied quickly. He could feel his cheeks flush as he realized how childish he’d just sounded. He just couldn’t let this man get the best of him; he wasn’t strong enough for this. But he had to be. So he spoke more slowly, more forcefully this time. “You don’t know what I’m capable of. You don’t know what I've done!”

“Oh, yes, I do.” Dumbledore said mildly. Draco couldn’t believe his ears.

And so it went. Dumbledore knew about Katie and Ron, how Draco had almost killed them in his own misguided and frankly lazy attempts to get at the Headmaster. He knew that Voldemort had given him an impossible mission, and had done nothing to stop it. The only thing he couldn't figure out, it seemed, was how Draco had smuggled the Death Eaters into the castle. A detail that Draco would never divulge, at least not wholly, and so he stayed silent as the Headmaster tried to entice him back into conversation. Maybe if the old man kept talking, there would be time for the others to join him. That was, until Dumbledore suggested that he couldn’t kill him.

“I’m not afraid!” Draco snarled, though he stayed where he was. “It’s you who should be scared.”

“But why? I don’t think you will kill me, Draco. Killing is not nearly as easy as the innocent believe… so tell me, while we wait for your friends… how did you smuggle them in here? It seems to have taken you a long time to work out how to do it.”

Draco felt like he was going to be sick. He tried taking a few deep breaths but nothing helped. Keeping his eyes on Dumbledore, he raised his wand higher and pointed it directly at the old man’s heart. Apparently he wasn’t going to drop the subject, so Draco had to fictionalize the truth to protect someone who was sure to hate him by now. It was the least he could do.

“I had to mend that broken Vanishing Cabinet that no one’s used for years. The one Montague got lost in last year.”

“Aaaaah.” Dumbledore sighed, as if he should have known. “That was clever… there is a pair, I take it?”

Draco retold the story as much as he could, leaving one very important detail out. If he kept talking, if the other Death Eaters could just join him already, this could end in some other way. Maybe.

Then Dumbledore seemed to praise him for being so clever, almost like he knew it wasn’t all Draco’s plan. But there was no way he could suspect who the real help had been, so Draco didn’t care. He just felt strengthened by the fact that he was buying into the whole thing. 

The young boy then told him all about how he controlled Rosmerta, and how Snape and just wanted all the glory in the eyes of the Dark Lord. Dumbledore tried to insist that the Potions Master was really on his side, but what did he know? Snape was as evil as they came. Draco spoke of how Rosmerta had warned them that Dumbledore had left, using enchanted Galleons like the one he had in his pocket right then. And that the Dark Mark wasn’t totally a lie. 

“Someone’s dead.” Draco could feel his voice rising as he recalled his way to the Tower. “One of your people… I don’t know who it was, it was dark.. I stepped over the body… I was supposed to be waiting up here when you got back, only your Phoenix lot got in the way…” 

“Yes, they do that.” 

There were more noises coming from down the stairs now, closer than ever before. The Death Eaters were coming.

“There is little time, one way or another. So, let us discuss your options, Draco.”

“My options?” Draco said loudly, incredulous at the man’s behaviour this entire night. “I’m standing here with a wand… I'm about to kill you!”

“My dear boy, let us have no more pretence about that. If you were going to kill me, you would have done it when you first Disarmed me, you would not have stopped for this pleasant chat about ways and means.”

“I haven’t got any options!” Draco cried out, feeling himself become white as a sheet. He couldn’t take it any more, the pressure and everything. “I’ve got to do it! He’ll kill me! He’ll kill my whole family!”

“I appreciate the difficulty of your position. Why else do you think I have not confronted you before now? Because I knew that you would have been murdered if Lord Voldemort realized I suspected you.”

Draco winced, unable to fully comprehend the care in the man’s voice.

“I did not dare speak to you of the mission with which I knew you were entrusted, in case he used Legilimency against you. But now at last we can speak plainly to each other… no harm has been done, you have hurt nobody, though you are very lucky that your unintentional victims survived. I can help you, Draco.”

“No, you can’t.” Draco could feel his hand and wand shaking, but couldn’t put them down. Dumbledore may be the only person the Dark Lord ever feared but now he’s sickly and old and could no longer stand a chance. His mom was depending on him now, his father too. He had to make them proud. “Nobody can. He told me to do it or he’ll kill me. I’ve got no choice.”

“Come over to the right side, Draco, we can protect you and your family. You are not a killer.”

“But I got this far, didn’t I?” He said slowly. He had to reassert himself, as tempting as the offer was. “They thought I’d die in the attempt, but I’m here… and you’re in my power… I’m the one with the wand… you’re at my mercy.”

“No, Draco,” Dumbledore spoke softly, “It is my mercy, and not yours, that matters now.”

He couldn’t speak. His mouth was gaping open and his wand was starting to lower. This was too much, he couldn’t handle it, he just couldn’t do this anymore. He needed out but there was no way out. He needed help but the only one who could make a difference was going to want him dead. 

But, as it turned out, he didn’t need to make a decision. The door behind him burst open with a bang and he was shoved to the side as four people in black robes pushed him to the side to get at the old wizard. 

He couldn’t pay attention as his fellow Death Eaters jeered at Dumbledore, leering and making odd conversation. Even Fenrir was there, which only made matters worse as the werewolf starting prodding him, reminding him of his orders.

He was saved again as Snape burst onto the scene, having taken down some of the Order quite loudly on his way up the stairs. Words were spoken, words that Draco couldn’t quite catch but he thought he just heard the old man say “Severus”, before a green flash of light filled the entire room.

Dumbledore toppled over and out the window. He was dead. And Draco hadn’t killed him. 

“Out of here, quickly.” Snape grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, pulling him out the door and down the stairs. Draco almost tripped over all the robes that were trying to make it out of the Astronomy Tower at once, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t believe it. 

It was over. He was safe.

For now.

…

A blood curdling scream echoed through every hall of the castle. Feet were pounding against stone as silence followed; the fighting having ceased and everyone was running towards the noise.

Hermione shot up, wrenching her hands from out of her hair and drawing her wand from her pocket. Without a second thought she started to run out of the room to follow the crowd. Whatever this was, it couldn’t be good.

“Wait! Hermione! What did you want to tell me?” Ron was trying to catch up to her and was breathless, whether it was due to the running or just utter mental exhaustion, she couldn’t tell.

She didn’t bother looking back at him. They made it down the stairs in no time, finding the crowd in the courtyard beneath the Astronomy Tower.

“Move… get out of the way…” Hermione pushed herself to the front of the crowd.

There was a body lying on the ground, and she recognized the figure leaning over it. Harry was holding something in his hand as he started to cry, staring down at the broken man.

It was Dumbledore. He was dead.

And it was all her fault.


	15. Again

Time had passed. And yet Hermione couldn’t distinguish quite how long it had been since the death of the greatest Headmaster Hogwarts had ever seen. 

She had attended his funeral with her two best friends. She had cried silently, letting streams of tears fall from her eyes but not allowing a single whimper to escape her lips. But now, no more tears would come. As she sat, staring blankly at the book held open on her lap, her eyes were as dry as the Sahara desert. She had left behind her two best friends at the train station, knowing she’d be meeting them again soon. When they meet again, nothing will ever be the same.

After Dumbledore’s funeral, Harry had taken her and Ron aside and told them that he wasn't going back to Hogwarts. He was finishing what the old Professor had started, a quest to destroy all of Voldemort’s remaining Horcruxes. Hermione and Ron had, obviously, insisted on joining him despite his protests. They were a team, and they would stick together. This was more important than anything, it had to be done, and there was no better way to get it done than to do it together.

That is, as long as they don’t find out what she had done. Hermione couldn’t forgive herself for being sucked in by Malfoy’s story, she couldn’t possibly imagine how the other two would ever understand what she’d done, let alone forgive her for it. She absolutely knew that Ron would throw a fit, and Harry would be speechless. And that would even be without the knowledge that Hermione had kissed the one boy they hated most in the world. 

“How could you betray us like that?” Ron would hurl at her, his face quickly darkening to match the colour of his hair. “A total violation of trust, that is.”

He would probably also have some choice, colourful names to call her before storming away and ignoring her for days on end. Harry, on the other hand, would take her actions for what they really meant. He would know that it was her fault that Dumbledore was dead. 

And that was why she had no idea what she was going to do next. Here she was, sitting on her childhood bed attempting to read a book on memory charms, thinking of nothing other than how guilty she felt. She let her eyes wander as she knew the ability to read was lost to her for the moment. Her gaze fell on her wand, which lay dormant on one of the towering piles of books that adorned her bedroom. 

She remembered when she first bought that wand, how silly it felt to be holding a stick of wood and expecting something extraordinary to happen. And how it also felt so right, grasping it in her tiny eleven year-old palm, watching a small shower of sparks erupt from the end. Her parents were so proud of her, from the moment she got her letter to when she first left home on the Hogwarts Express. The very train on which she’d met Harry and Ron. Her best friends. Her first friends. The ones she felt so guilty for betraying. 

No. Hermione had had enough of feeling guilty. She was no victim, and she wouldn’t let herself become one to her own emotions. She slammed the book shut with a thud, and let it slide onto the bed beside her as she rose and snatched up her wand. If she was going to keep her friends, she was going to have to do something about it. As she gazed down at the wand, she knew she had to take action. She was going to do whatever it took to put things right. Because she is Hermione Granger. And she damn well knows how to correct things.

…

Time had passed. And things weren’t getting better.

Draco had technically managed to complete the task the Dark Lord had set for him to do. The Death Eaters had infiltrated Hogwarts, and Dumbledore was dead. The fact remained that it wasn’t he who had completed the second task, and he was punished for it. He couldn’t even imagine what would happen to him and his family if it was found out that he hadn’t really been the one to complete the first task either. Especially since it wasn’t even a pureblood who had solved the puzzle. 

He was a prisoner in his own home. Everyday he bore witness to more and more horrific things. Screams of pain would echo from the dungeons, and all he could do was stop himself from joining in with the choruses. Instead, he would spend as much time as he could in his bed, engulfing himself in his sheets so that he could pretend he was anywhere else but here.

His parents seemed as if strangers to him. His mother would do her best to be there for him whenever the family was left alone, but, as always, his father mostly ignored him. He blamed Draco for bringing shame to the Malfoy name, despite the fact that it was his father who had done the most damage thus far. Draco had been left to clean up his mess, and apparently his efforts were far from satisfactory. Their relationship, which had always been strained, now threatened to break entirely. It was only the shreds of his dignity that kept Lucius tied to his family now. 

At this point, Draco couldn’t care less. He’d failed in so many ways, one more person being disappointed in him was barely a surprise. But he knew he’d disappointed the one person he had wanted to be proud of him.

Not a single day passed where Hermione wasn’t the first thing in his head when he woke, or the last thought to pass through before he fell asleep to the never-ending sounds of torture in Malfoy manor. It was the memory of her feather-like touch that got him through the meetings held in his dining room, where the Dark Lord sat at the head of the table and recounted horrible things. It was the lingering feeling of her lips pressed against his that kept his mouth shut when all he wanted to do was scream at those who had caused him to hurt her. It was her hand that he felt holding his back when he felt the urge to punch something, because he knew that it was still all his fault. That he had messed up. Again. He had betrayed her because he thought it would save his family, but he knew now that nothing short of a miracle could do that. His family’s allegiances, that had once guaranteed a life of luxuries and class, now held only empty promises of constant fear and paranoia. Any move could be the wrong one, and there was only one punishment left for him to pay.

He felt useless. He couldn’t charm his way out of the situation he’d gotten himself into. He also couldn’t threaten, a beloved tactic of his from the past, because the threats would be empty. He was alone.

No. Draco had had someone, and he’d let her go. But that didn’t mean it was too late. He could fight for her. He knew he could. If there was one thing Malfoy’s always got, it’s what they want. 

Opening his nightstand drawer, Draco drew out the one possession he’d kept secret from everyone. His one trinket that he had been determined not to lose.


End file.
